Unreachable
by Lucrecia LeVrai
Summary: -His soul was filled with hate, but he was always polite to me.- Alright, but what did exactly happen to Hilda when she was forced to remain in Kuja's custody?
1. Between Pride and Oblivion

Disclaimer: _Final Fantasy IX _belongs to Square-Enix, but I bet you already knew that. Heh. Anyway. Welcome to this Kuja-centric, Hilda-centric story. :)

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_Unreachable_

by Lucrecia LeVrai

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**Chapter One**

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Hilda didn't even grow alarmed the moment the airship started to shake for the first time—she merely bent down to retrieve a handkerchief that had fallen out of her fingers. When the trembling repeated, however, she was forced to look up at a circular window in one of the walls, only to discover that they were indeed taking off, even though it was far too early for that, by an hour and a half, to be exact. It obviously meant that her skilled technicians had managed to repair the ship a bit sooner than expected, but it still didn't explain this sudden departure. The crew should have at least informed her of such a major change in their schedule.

She was just about to stroll back into the engine room and give those self-righteous men a piece of her mind, when suddenly the ground shook once more, and a sound of a not-so-distant explosion rent the air. Hilda cried out in fright, pressing her hands against her ears, lowering them only when she was certain that the strange earthquake was over, at least for now. She had no idea what was happening, but before she could even start wondering, a lone man appeared at the opposite end of the corridor, sprinting in her direction. She immediately recognized him as one of the few soldiers who had willingly accompanied her for the previous three weeks, ever since she had decided to leave Lindblum behind.

"Lady Hilda!" the man gasped, having reached her side in less than ten seconds. "You must return to your room at once! We're under attack!"

Under attack…? Confused and perhaps also a bit scared, she didn't really protest much when he all but pushed her through the doorway.

"Who–" she began, but the guard didn't let her finish.

"Please, my lady, lock the door and don't go outside, whatever happens!" His eyes were filled with genuine worry, and it instantly made her wonder how dangerous the entire situation was.

"Fine." She nodded seriously, and saw him exhale in relief. "Please, be careful."

She wanted to continue, ask him about the details, but he was already gone, disappearing round the nearest corner. There was nothing else she could do but to follow his advice and actually close the door.

An attack. It just didn't make any sense, did it…? Who was trying to attack them? Was it her husband? True, she had 'borrowed' his precious airship without even bothering to ask for his permission, but unless turning him into an oglop had resulted in some major personality change, she doubted he would have _ever_ tried to take some sort of violent revenge. She knew the damned skirt-chaser all too well: he would have never risked damaging his most prized possession—Hilda Garde, what else?—especially when his _other_ Hilda was on board…

Not Cid, then. Enemy soldiers were out of the question, too. As far as she was concerned, Lindblum had no enemies at all; when she had fled from the castle but a couple of weeks ago, the country had been as peaceful as ever. Unfortunately, it left only one plausible explanation, one that she didn't really like much. Could it be a group of bandits? And if so, were they only interested in jewels and money, or perhaps in something else?

There was even more shouting outside, accompanied by a loud, unpleasant crash, and she instantly jumped away from the door. A second later she was already by her bed, reaching for a small, ornate dagger hidden under the pillows, one that she had always kept by her side, but hardly ever used. In fact, she was quite certain that she had never needed it before. It looked more like a child's toy than a real weapon. It probably wouldn't be enough to defend her life—_or_ _honor_, she thought grimly—but still, it was better than nothing. Clutching the thin haft with her both hands, she turned towards the door, waiting for a potential attacker to appear.

Nobody came, though, neither a vile bandit, screaming obscenities and trying to hurt her, nor a smiling guard to tell her that trouble was already over. Little by little, the distant sounds of fighting died down, and the room became disturbingly quiet, safe for her own, slightly irregular breathing. Five minutes had passed, and the door handle didn't even budge. Ten, and she was slowly starting to grow restless. Fifteen, and a decision was made.

Calming herself down, tiptoeing to the door and prying it open was an easy task. Much to her relief, the corridor was empty, but she could still sense that something was terribly wrong here. After a couple of turns, when she was finally able to walk outside, onto the main deck, her worst fears became reality.

The sight that greeted her eyes was nothing short of sickening. A few trails of blood covered the shiny, polished planks, zigzagging lazily towards the railing, then ending abruptly. The arising conclusion was simple—a couple of bodies had been thrown overboard—and Hilda's hand instantly flew to her mouth. She had no idea what she wanted to do more, to scream or to faint, but somehow, she had managed to keep herself from doing both.

Suddenly, she could hear soft footsteps somewhere behind her back. Whirling around in surprise, she discovered two strange, unfamiliar creatures, both clad in identical, baggy pants and huge, pointy hats. They were a bit shorter than an average-sized human, and apparently unarmed, but it took her only a couple of moments to notice the blood on their hands.

"You did this?" she addressed the nearest 'hat', and despite herself, her voice trembled. "Why... why would you attack my ship? Who are you?"

The creature didn't respond, it only stared at her blankly with a pair of bizarre, expressionless eyes. Frightened, but oddly determined, Hilda took a step forward. As if in reply, the dwarf raised a gloved, chubby hand, its palm outstretched, fingertips sparkling.

What was it? Some sort of a spell?

"Must kill those who resist." The declaration was slow, emotionless, almost mechanical. Hilda gasped.

"No, _wait_… Don't–" Before she could panic, though, there was a new voice behind her back, youthful, amused, and perhaps also a bit irritated.

"Oh? Yet another stowaway?"

She whirled around to discover a man she had clearly never seen before. At first, she mistook him for boy about half her age, but a closer look at his features instantly told her that it had been a completely false impression. His pale, eerily beautiful face certainly didn't look a day over twenty, and yet his eyes were that of an adult: cold, clever, calculating.

"My, my… a _woman_." He sighed, titling his head to the side in a charming, lighthearted gesture. "Well, this _is_ a surprise…"

"Who are you?" she demanded, trying her best to ignore the slight trembling of her hands. "Where is everyone?"

"By 'everyone', did you mean the Lindblum soldiers?" Nodding, she watched him raise a slender, almost delicate-looking hand, and then trace a wide, lazy arch towards the ship's wooden railing. "Down there… I think."

An icy shiver ran down her spine. "Have you… killed them all?"

"No." He smiled in reply, his gaze absently tracing one of the red, sticky patterns at his feet. "My Black Mages did."

She had no idea who or what his 'black mages' were, but she instantly remembered the strange, plump creatures behind her back. No matter how badly she wanted to see whether the two were still there, she found herself completely unable to turn away from the smiling man. True, he carried no weapon and looked almost too fragile to be considered dangerous, but there was something in his expression that made him appear nearly terrifying.

"What is the meaning of this? Answer me!"

"Please, my lady, put your dagger away," he replied calmly, and she immediately pressed her lips together, her hands involuntarily refusing to let go of the hilt. "Well…" the subtle mockery in his eyes had become rather evident by now, "if you want to attack me so badly, go ahead." There was a short pause, neither of them moved. "And if not…"

His steps were slow, deliberate, though definitely not cautious. He didn't even consider her a threat, Hilda suddenly realized, and the thought made her angry, almost willing to prove him otherwise… and yet she could only watch him approach, helpless, paralyzed, unable to back away, let alone point her dagger in his direction. When his cold fingers finally curled around her wrist, she could only gasp in surprise, the weapon slipping out from her grip, hitting the deck with a soft clang.

"Who are you?" she breathed. "What do you want with me?"

"Ah, but I am afraid that my name alone won't tell you anything, my lady," he replied softly, finally letting go of her hand and backing away. "Nevertheless…" He bent down in a perfectly polite, practiced bow, worthy of a young, well-mannered gentleman. "I am Kuja. As for your other question…" He gracefully straightened himself up. "Well, I guess it's quite hard to decide. Your presence here is a bit of an… inconvenience to me. I suppose that the most logical solution would be to kill you," he went on in a calm, uncaring, shockingly _polite_ voice, "but I admit that I am used to maintaining a certain level of… courtesy… towards women." There was yet another brief pause. "Oh, and by the way… May I ask you your name, my lady?"

She could only stare at him, wide-eyed, disbelief written all over her face. The way he had spoken of it all… the way he kept _smiling_ at her, in a sweet, disarming, almost childlike manner… He was toying with her, she knew, and yet there was little mockery in his startlingly clear, blue gaze—only pure indifference, mixed with a calm, bored detachment.

Did he really have no morals, no conscience whatsoever? The idea was more than just terrifying. Little by little, she was beginning to realize the truth about her situation. It seemed that her very life hang by a thread held by this deceptive, unpredictable man.

"I am Hilda Fabool," she eventually found herself replying, in an even, yet slightly strained voice, as she was trying her best to appear dignified and self-confident. "The wife to Cid Fabool the Ninth, the Regent of Lindblum. Whoever you might be, you will certainly regret hurting me."

"Oh?" He chuckled, tilting his head to the side in a perfect display of feigned innocence. "No need to be so shaken, Lady Hilda. I thought I've already made it clear that I was not going to hurt you… I've never intended to kidnap you, either," he stated with a small sigh. "I was merely interested in this little, lovely airship here." He shrugged carelessly, tracing his palm over the smooth, wooden railing.

If Cid had been here, he would have probably killed this man on the spot—the thought brought a small, humorless smile to Hilda's pale lips. "Release me, then."

Ever so slowly, he shook his head. "I'm afraid I cannot do this, my lady. Unfortunately, I don't plan to visit Lindblum any time soon, and until I do, you will have to remain on this ship. Of course, I suppose I could always land here, and leave you in the middle of this hot, treacherous desert…" He was carefully fingering a strand of his long, white hair, apparently paying no attention to her shocked expression. "But I guess it would have been awfully rude of me… am I right?"

She took a deep breath. "You… would not dare."

"Wouldn't I?" A pale shadow of a smile crossed his delicate lips; once again, a long, meaningful silence fell between them. "Perhaps not," he declared suddenly, his smirk growing a bit wider. "I think you should stay on the airship, at least for now. Nobody is going to hurt you here… I promise."

Unfortunately, she had no reason to trust him. And even if he was being sincere with her, even if he meant to keep his doubtful promise, then for how long? Perhaps she shouldn't have let him disarm her so easily… but then again, would a single dagger make that much of a difference in a real fight against a grown-up man? And what about these smaller, chubby creatures, the ones he had called his mages? Weren't they dangerous, as well?

Right now, when they were at least one thousand feet in the air, she had absolutely no chance of slipping away unnoticed, either. Besides, she thought grimly, she would have never tried to escape without Cid's airship. Yes, she was still furious at her husband, but she certainly didn't want to make matters worse by coming home empty-handed.

_If_ she would ever come home…

"My, my… Lady Hilda, you look a bit pale." Kuja's voice seemed nearly concerned. "Why don't you go back to your room and rest for a while?" The order might have been subtle and indirect, but it had been an order, nonetheless.

"The airship… Where are you taking it?" She found her voice at last, and much to her relief, it sounded as steady as ever.

"North." He smiled sweetly. "Now, will you be fine by yourself? Or should I perhaps have one of _these_," – he nodded at something behind her back, and she finally turned around, only to see that the two mages were still there – "…escort you back to your cabin?"

"No need," she replied sourly, each word practically dripping with sarcasm. "Thank you for your kind _hospitality_."

"Oh?" Obviously, her glare hadn't been enough to wipe that infuriating smirk off his face. "Lady Hilda? You're very much welcome."

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**End of Chapter One**

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Author's Notes: Don't ask, I simply _had_ to. I like Kuja/Hilda fics a lot, which is why I finally decided to present my own version of the strange relationship these two people shared. If you're just looking for some cheap romance, you probably won't find it here. I'm going to try and keep Hilda in character, and this 'in-character' Hilda would never fall for her captor, I'm afraid… Hmm, what do _you_ think? Any opinions/suggestions? Reviews, please…?


	2. A Different Face

Dear **Neko-chan**, I'm terribly sorry for not updating sooner… It's just that the dreaded 'real life' was getting in my way pretty effectively, keeping me not only from visiting this site on a regular basis, but also from writing in general. :( In any case, your patience with me is incredible, and I'm starting to wonder whether you're not some kind of an angel. :)) Thank you so much for everything you've done for me so far! --hugs tightly--

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**Chapter Two**

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_Maybe it's my punishment for running away from home_, she thought for what seemed like a tenth time in the last couple of minutes, absently rearranging yet another one of her pillows, a task which was supposed to serve more as a distraction from her growing restlessness than anything else. _Maybe I should have never tried something so unreasonable_…

Hilda's fingers froze for a few seconds, then resumed their subconscious, nervous twitching. Unreasonable? Was it, really? After all, how could she have predicted such a ridiculous, tragic turn of events? She _had_ the right to leave Lindblum any time she wanted, had she not? And if so, was it really _her_ fault that those poor soldiers had died in a completely unexpected attack, trying to defend themselves against a much more powerful enemy?

Well, _of course_ not… but her uneasiness, mixed with a great deal of anger and frustration, remained. Some things were certain: if only she had stayed in the capital, those people would now be alive. Hilda Garde would have never been stolen, at least not so easily. And she… She wouldn't have to sit in this room--the door most probably unlocked, yet the very sense of imprisonment remaining--moving from one chair to another, nearly biting at her fingernails in an entirely unladylike manner.

Maybe she should have chosen some other way?

There were many ways of punishing a disloyal husband. Hilda could think of a few good ones in less than five minutes. The most obvious one, cheating on him behind his back, was absolutely out of the question. First of all, Cid was probably too _dense_ for the method to work straight away, so a potential affair would have to last for months. Most importantly, though, no matter how much she couldn't stand his inconsiderate behavior at times, she still _loved_ him… and would never do something so cruel as to seek revenge in another man's arms. No, she had had to strike where it would hurt the most, without actually hurting him _too badly_… Fortunately, Cid's pride and carelessness made an ideal target.

Had he been taking her presence for granted? Well, certainly not anymore. Now he would have to learn what it meant to run a country without a woman's care and support.

Hadn't he always repeated how _precious_ his baby-daughter, his airship was? Let's see how he managed without it.

Hadn't he usually tried to impress some of the younger girls with his looks? Well, surely he would make a _terrific_ impression as an oglop…

Hilda chuckled under her breath; it was a small, humorless sound, which sounded suspiciously similar to a dry sob. No, she didn't really feel guilty for executing _that_ sort of a vengeance. Month after month, she had seen the man flirt shamelessly with cute, young maids and less civilized, yet equally attractive female engineers. Cooks, magicians, actresses, technicians and infamous Alexandrian soldiers… everything that wore a skirt--the skimpier, the better--didn't go beyond her husband's notice.

To say that Hilda had been _upset_ would be a huge understatement.

Cid deserved every bit of punishment he got. At least she had been quite creative about it.

_Besides…_ Hilda turned her head to the right, to look at the passing clouds, _am I not allowed to a bit of freedom every once in a while?_

She had taken this trip not only to put Cid back into his place. She had also wanted to take a break from her everyday life. From everyone's constant rambling about machines, steam engines and brand new technologies, from the annual Festival of the Hunt--a dangerous, slightly outdated tradition that she had never truly approved of--as well as from loud ballrooms and dusty theatres, her overprotective servants and their mindless chatter, Artania's old jokes and her best friends' headaches… practically from everyone and everything. It had been so long since she had last left the city as _herself_, not as the regent's wife. She had almost forgotten what independency tasted like…

And where was her independency _now_, when she was but a helpless prisoner in some strange, unpredictable man's hands? A man who wouldn't even hesitate to kill, in order to achieve his obscure goals? A man who didn't need to think twice before threatening a woman? How _safe_ could she feel under these circumstances? Was _he_ even inclined to keep his cheerful promise?

Worse still, she wasn't the only one caught up in such a risky, unfortunate position. If _she_ was unable to go back home any time she saw fit, what would become of her husband? As much as Hilda tried to ignore it, the question had already settled deep into her mind, pressing for an answer she knew she could not find. True, she had initially planned on staying away from the castle for at least a month or two, and that period wasn't over yet… but if things continued as they were, who or what could guarantee her safe return?

And if she didn't manage to return, who would turn Cid back into a human?

She could only hope that the man would never grow so desperate as to try dubious potions, let alone some other suspicious rites. Then again, knowing him, he probably had enough common sense to patiently await her arrival. The obvious problem was, she was temporarily stuck in a dead-end situation. Returning to Lindblum could take her weeks, if not _months_. Besides, unless her captor had a sudden change of mind and decided to vanish from this ship as swiftly as he had appeared, it would require a clever plan of escape, not to mention some bravery to follow it, and a great deal of luck.

Hilda sighed, tracing her smooth fingers along the pillow's edge. Sure, she could always put her worries aside and simply wait for a rescue party to appear. It was _some_ alternative, she supposed, a fairly reasonable one at that, so much safer than trying to push her luck with unpredictable madmen. Sooner or later, someone _would_ come, right? Wandering heroes and selfless mercenaries were a rarity these days, but if Cid was forced to spend too much time in his new body, he might even start to look for her, and then…

Ah, but it would have been so humiliating… running away from your husband, only to have him rescue you some time later. Simply pathetic.

Hilda Garde could remain in the air for at least nine days, without running out of fuel, water and other supplies. Normally, this fact would have made her proud of Cid's skills, but not right now, when every single hour mattered. A whole week was a huge amount of time, an eternity, almost, especially considering the ship's incredible speed. In a week they could get literally everywhere, to Burmecia and beyond--assuming that Kuja hadn't lied to her, of course, and that they were indeed traveling north. Besides, there was no way of telling where exactly they would land, and it was another factor that worked to Hilda's disadvantage. It made her escape very difficult, nearly impossible.

Well, there was nothing she could do at the moment but stare at the sky and battle her uneasy thoughts. She disliked having to sit with her arms folded, but what other choice did she have?

* * *

He swiftly rose from his seat when she entered the room, walking up to the other side of the table, as if to offer her a chair. Hilda stopped in the doorway, glancing down at a slightly smaller mage who had just brought her to this dinning chamber, and was already turning back to leave. As soon as the unnerving, silent creature was gone, her eyes wandered back to Kuja's expressionless face.

"Thank you for your… invitation," she spoke without taking a single step forward, "but I am not hungry at the moment. I tried to explain it to one of your… servants, but he" - _he?-_ "wouldn't even listen."

"Oh, but you'll have to eat." The white-haired man shrugged, stepping back from the chair, perhaps wordlessly asking her to come closer. "After all, I didn't spare your life only to have you starving."

Hilda couldn't help but wince. Straight to the point, wasn't he? Unfortunately, his arrogance was fully justified: yesterday, she had been completely at his mercy.

"Don't be unreasonable, Lady Hilda," he insisted. "Please, take a seat."

For a long moment she stared at the table, undecided, but common sense eventually won with her pride. To starve herself to death in a silly act of defiance would have been, for the lack of other words, simply ridiculous. If she wanted to escape, she would have to remain strong, and to remain strong, she would have to eat. It was as simple as that.

She gracefully walked up to the offered seat, once again wincing slightly, as he all but helped her sit down. In this new age of enlightenment and equality, young people hardly ever cared about such gestures. It would seem, though, that this particular lad was the very epitome of proper etiquette. It was quite confusing, in fact, that he could be so full of contradictions--acting so gentlemanly whenever he chose to, yet so frighteningly rude a moment later.

Tonight, in this warm, candlelit room, where there was no blood in sight, only delicious-looking, steaming dishes, the unmoving Kuja looked almost harmless. Hilda knew better than to judge people on the basis of their appearance, but with his eyes half-closed, lips set into a neutral, nearly pleasant expression, and long hair flowing down his shoulders in a swirling mass of white and silver, he resembled nothing more than a very young, entirely innocent boy… or, to be more specific, a beautiful, porcelain doll, which was only _supposed_ to look like a boy. His facial features alone were enough to make a couple of her female friends envious, she realized suddenly, and the thought made her cringe. There was nothing to envy, after all… She had already seen his _other_ face, hadn't she? A face marred by cruelty, frozen in icy indifference.

And yet…

Had she met him like this, calm and motionless, bathed in the soft, golden glow of dying sunlight and flickering candles, she would have _never _deemed him capable of murder.

It was a strangely unsettling thought.

The illusion of innocence, however, broke the very second he opened his eyes--because they were the ones she had seen yesterday, on those slippery, bloodied planks, as he was staring down at her, expression cold and uncaring.

"You must be hungry, Lady Hilda," he murmured absently. "Let's eat."

Well, _of course_ she was hungry, in spite of her earlier lie… No wonder, really, considering the fact the she hadn't eaten practically anything in the past twenty-four hours. Careful to keep her movements dignified, she helped herself to some bouillon, wishing she had enough courage to reach for a piece of meat straight away.

They both ate in complete silence, occasionally pausing to exchange brief glances, yet keeping all their comments to themselves. Much to Hilda's disappointment, the food itself turned out rather unpleasant. Swallowing one bite after another soon became a considerable challenge. Not only did her throat feel dry and constricted from the events of yesterday, but also the dishes' taste left quite a lot to be desired. Everything was edible, she supposed… but a bit tasteless, nonetheless.

"Would you like some wine, Lady Hilda?" Kuja's voice suddenly rang from across the table.

"No, thank you," she found herself replying. Unlike the rest of her meal, the wine would have probably turned out delicious, at least if it came from Hilda Garde's hold, but she had to remain perfectly sober. As much as she hated the constant tension, she knew she could never allow herself to relax in this man's company.

"I'm sorry about the dinner's quality," he spoke once more, and this time she actually looked up at him, only to see him smiling apologetically--or was it merely another one of his skillfully concealed smirks? "None of my puppets can cook very well, I'm afraid."

Puppets…? Was it all these creatures were? They sure looked a bit like it; their golden eyes empty and uncomprehending, movements stiff and oddly insecure, too strange for normal, self-conscious beings.

"So I have noticed." Fortunately, her voice didn't fail her, and she instantly congratulated herself on regaining her inner balance so soon. "Had I known about it before, I would have perhaps reconsidered your offer, and prepared myself a decent meal."

"Oh? Is that so?" He looked up from a bottle of wine--Cid's wine, what else?--he had just opened. "I thought that Lindblum noblewomen didn't lower themselves to such petty things as cooking." The tone had been playful, more like a lighthearted joke than actual insult.

"Obviously, you thought wrong," Hilda replied with a small, dignified shrug. "Life often seems to be full of surprises, does it not?"

"True enough. I can't say I didn't feel surprised to meet the Regent's wife in a place like this, so far away from Lindblum…" He trailed off, as if waiting for her to swallow the bait and continue. Ah, but if he considered himself the only one skilled in these games, then he was gravely mistaken.

"I assure you my shock was even greater." She forced herself to meet his gaze, no matter how much courage it cost her. "You see, I have always thought that Alexandrian noblemen didn't lower themselves to such petty things as murder and thievery."

As expected, she did manage to catch him off guard, just this once--her bold words were no different from a direct slap in the face, after all. For the briefest of moments, his blue eyes widened in uncontrolled surprise, but then he simply started to laugh, expression as unreadable as ever.

"What makes you think I'm an Alexandrian nobleman?"

This strange, indirect response definitely wasn't any similar to the one she had expected, and she couldn't really tell if it was for the better. "Your accent," she replied calmly, careful not to show her growing uneasiness. "This, and the fact that you are one of the very few people I know who actually take their time to eat poultry with knife and fork."

Well, it certainly _was_ true. Ever since their meal had started, he had been meticulously cutting the tasteless chicken into tiny, even pieces, instead of simply grabbing a thigh, sticking it into his mouth and picking the bone clean, just like most other men did, aristocracy or not. Truth be told, it was something that had instantly caught Hilda's attention. For years, she had tried to teach her otherwise polite husband some basic table manners. Much to her frustration, it had soon turned out to be an absolutely impossible task, doomed to failure from the very beginning, as Cid simply wouldn't give up on his old, comfortable habits, only because her wife had told him to.

Kuja, on the other hand, behaved in a flawless way, at least as far as proper etiquette was concerned. Unlike Cid, he would actually use flatware. Unlike Cid, he remembered to use a napkin. Not that it made him look any better in her eyes.

Meanwhile, the young man laughed once again, looking up from his slender fingers, still locked around a set of cutlery. "Well done, Lady Hilda. You are very perceptive."

He seemed genuinely amused, as if the fact that she had discovered a part of his identity with such ease didn't bother him even the slightest bit. Was he really so careless, so self-assured? Did he have no fear of being caught?

"Apparently not perceptive enough to tell your motives," she replied calmly, willing to play along for just a while longer. "Why would you steal a ship, if you could possibly…" –one look at his clothes was enough– "afford it?"

"Oh, it's not just _any_ ship, right? It's the Hilda Garde, unofficially the Eighth Wonder of the modern world, the fastest airship on Gaia. Had I wanted any _other_ ship, I would've probably tried using some more old-fashioned means, like money." He laughed. "Too bad this one wasn't for sale, then."

"So, for a mere airship you would go this far?"

"Oh? Haven't I already told you that I didn't do anything?"

"Yet you are the one giving orders here."

"True." Hilda's heart nearly skipped a beat, as the innocent smile didn't fade from Kuja's face. "Which is why you may want not to upset me."

Was that a threat? With his enigmatic expression, there was no way of telling. Unless she asked him directly, of course, and that was entirely out of the question. It would be pointless, not to mention risky, to prolong this incredulous discussion.

"Excuse me," she said, standing up. "I'm afraid I need some rest."

"Leaving so soon, Lady Hilda?"

"Yes. I have already finished my meal."

His voice stopped her just before she could reach the door. "As you wish, but before you leave, may I ask you a single question? Where were you traveling yesterday, my lady?"

It was the very same question she had already asked him, more or less. A small, humorless smile tugging at the corners of her lips, Hilda turned around to face the sitting man. "East."

He blinked at the mockery, surprised only for a second, then once again started to chuckle. "Ah, by now I should've become rather well-used to your sharp tongue, eh?" The laughter faded as quickly as it had started. "…Still, I insist that you give me a direct answer."

"And why should I? My private matters are of no interest to you." She kept her head high, but fear was creeping up on her rather quickly. Probably for the very first time since she had met him, Kuja looked deadly serious.

"It couldn't have been a matter of politics, could it?"

"I was not on a diplomatic mission of any kind, if that is what you were asking about," she replied cautiously, unsure of how much he wanted to know, and just how much she was willing to tell him. "I was traveling for my own, personal reasons, which, as I already said, do not concern you in any way."

A thoughtful look crossed his doll-like features, as if he was trying to figure out whether her words were true or not. "A bit surprising, really, that you didn't take your husband with you."

"He was very busy," she retorted dryly, "and had to remain in Lindblum."

"Mhm…" He leant back in his chair. "I think I might've heard something about that… So busy that he wouldn't even leave his room, let alone the castle, for the past three weeks."

"He has been… sick, as well." She narrowed her eyes at the white-haired man. There was no way he could know about Cid's true condition, unless he had a secret informant within the castle, or was a spy himself--though the latter, she supposed, was rather impossible. She had met several spies in her life, and they had all but one thing in common: inconspicuous appearance. Kuja, with this unnaturally perfect face of his, could never pass as 'inconspicuous'.

"Sick, I see." The almost nonexistent smile didn't fade. "How unfortunate. Well, there have been rather… interesting rumors. Apparently, Regent Cid suffers from some kind of an unpleasant curse, one that has temporarily robbed him of his human body. Surely, you must know something about it, Lady Hilda?"

"And how would _you_ know?" she interrupted sharply, for she certainly didn't like the direction, in which their entire conversation was going. "I thought you mentioned that the Regent didn't even leave his room?"

"Ah, rumors are only rumors, I guess… Nothing to get too excited with," he sighed, raising one of his hands in an overly resigned, apologetic gesture. "In any case, it's a real pity you can't be with him in these supposedly trying weeks."

She had to clench her teeth so tightly that it actually hurt. "Indeed. Well, I shall be returning to my room now, if you do not mind. Enjoy the rest of your meal."

"Ah, but it just won't be the same without your charming presence." He didn't really mean it, which was rather obvious. "We shall meet here tomorrow, as well. Oh, and by the way… As long as we're in the air, you're free to wander around the ship as much as you like. I'd recommend you not to disturb the puppets, though. They might react quite badly to such disruptions."

* * *

Why he had decided to spare her life, he had no idea. It had been an impulsive, spontaneous decision, and it probably had not so much to do with his conscience, as with the circumstances under which they had met. Killing her on the spot would have been too… uncivilized for his taste. And a bit unnecessary, as she posed no treat to him. There was nothing beautiful, nothing truly poetic in striking down a defenseless woman, one who had still attempted to look straight into her death's face, without flinching. It had perhaps been that defiance, that very courage that had saved her. Had she covered before him in fear, he would have most certainly had her killed in a matter of seconds, with no regrets. After all… there was no place for the weak in this world. Not in this one, not in any other. Showing _anyone_ mercy was pointless. It was one of the basic laws of the universe.

Even if the whole turn of events was rather surprising, he didn't regret his choice. Keeping this woman alive meant but a couple of insignificant complications, nothing more, and it could also prove quite beneficial in the near future. As of now, he wouldn't even have to keep an eye on her--surely, she wasn't suicidal enough to try and escape in such unfavorable conditions?

And besides… she was a bit amusing, really: her pride constantly making her raise to the smallest of his challenges, regardless of her situation. When had they met, exactly? Had it been only two days ago? Less than forty-eight hours, in any case, and she was already certain that she had figured him out, managed to solve at least one puzzle, basing on his accent and table manners alone. The mere thought of it brought yet another ghostly smile to his lips. Humans were all the same, he mused, slowly tracing the rim of an empty glass; nothing more than a bunch of pathetic, overconfident fools. Too blind to see past his innocent façade, to take him seriously, to realize that his kind words might have been nothing but lies and empty vows. Ignorant enough to mistake ethereal beauty for weakness, distant sarcasm for sheer politeness. Oh, sure, he had always hated playing weak and respectful towards the ones he despised, but in the end, it was all worth it. Their reactions were so… entertaining, after all. People swallowed whatever lies he would feed them. They thought him harmless, he knew, clever--and thus potentially dangerous--but remarkably loyal, entirely devoted to Alexandria's glorious future. A slightly eccentric, snobbish, yet perfectly average gentleman, concerned mostly with money and pleasure (weren't they all?), and most importantly, with the Kingdom's well-being…

They were in for a big surprise. The glass, now filled to the brim with wine, slowly rose to meet the man's scarlet lips.

And to think that the elephant-lady was sure _she_ was using _him_… It was laughable, really.

He had long ago abandoned all fears of being caught red-handed, of someone being able to see through, let alone thwart his actual plans. And how could they? Even that old fool, that pathetic excuse for a Maker, couldn't find a crack in his flawless mask--a final, undeniable proof of his betrayal--no matter how hard he tried. So far, they had reached a status quo of sorts: as long as Garland's own ambitions were set into motion, as long as the Tree received enough souls to function properly, Kuja was free to do whatever he pleased. However, the Tree still wasn't working at its full capacity, and it was something that kept Garland nearly on edge these days--if such a term could apply to a person who hardly ever showed any feelings at all, that is. In any case, Kuja knew better than to mistake his Creator's seemingly cold, stony expression for anything else than a clear sign of irritation and displeasure.

And, as much as he hated to admit it, an impatient, displeased Garland was not to be taken lightly. A _real_, full-scale war on Gaia would have to start soon, otherwise the pompous bastard would grow suspicious and insufferable. It didn't really matter if they were miles, _dimensions_ apart; unfortunately, Garland still had many ways of reaching his Angel–

Kuja's open palm violently slammed onto the table. No, not _his_, certainly not for long… not when the Angel was already so _close_ to realizing his own life's ambition. With the beginning of the war, everyone's attention would be diverted, and _he_ would finally be able to bring all the Eidolons under his control. As soon as he managed to do _that_, only one step would separate him from defeating Garland and becoming a master of his own fate… as well as of everything else in the known universe.

He could hardly wait for that to happen.

* * *

**End of Chapter Two**

* * *

Quoting the X-Files: "The plot is out there!" (…I just need to look for it some more. :D)

* * *

Author's Notes: Damn, I wanted to keep my chapters short, just this once… perhaps next time I'll do a bit better. :P Comments and suggestions are very much welcome, even though I already know _where_ this fic will be going – it's just a matter of writing everything down in semi-decent English, as usual. :)

**Steeple333**, please, don't get me started on a single non-English word I decided to use in the first chapter, as I could ramble about the whole issue _forever_. Basically, I agree that Fangirl Japanese is horrible and that putting it into a fic makes you a very bad author (I never claimed to be a _good_ author, by the way :P).

Kuja's 'ara' ('huh?') was supposed to be nothing more than a Terran expression of surprise – I love toying with idea that it's the language he thinks in, most of the time. Would you rather have me create an entirely new word for this purpose? Truth be told, I was planning on using even more Japanese than that (not just _Fangirl Japanese_, mind you), but I kind of expected that some people wouldn't like it… and perhaps rightly so.

I removed the word and decided to stick to pure English from now on.

**Tacofoolio**, I thought about "the Black Mages issue" _a lot_ before I decided to post anything, trust me. :) The Mages Kuja currently travels with are those who haven't awoken yet, not the ones form the Village. Well, I felt that the man needed at least _some_ servants (after all, he's definitely not the kind of person to do everything by himself), and Black Mages were an obvious choice.

As for Hilda… she's far too noble to betray her husband, so there's no chance in hell that she will ever fall for Kuja. ;) And yes, **Neko-chan**, I intentionally made her so strong, because that's how I've always seen her – as a self-confident, independent woman, not so easily intimidated, and certainly not your typical damsel in distress. ;)


	3. Puppets

Author's Notes: Oh, look, what do we have here? A new chapter? And it didn't take me a year to update? *snickers* Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter Three**

* * *

In her dream, Cid takes his lady wife by the hand and leads her outside, to one of the castle's many balconies.

"Look, isn't she lovely?" he asks, a hint of genuine excitement in his usually calm voice.

_She? _Hilda's eyes widen is shock. _Some woman? How dares he call her_ _lovely in my presence? Doesn't he even care?_

"Who is?" she hisses, each word dripping with barely suppressed fury.

Cid laughs in response. "The ship. Turn around."

She does and—how come she hasn't noticed it before?—realizes that there is a huge airship hovering right in front of her, its wooden hull smooth and majestic, steal propellers gleaming in the sunlight. She frowns.

"It looks familiar…"

"Hilda Garde XVI." Cid nods at the magnificent vessel. "My newest achievement. See, it's already finished."

"The sixteenth…?" she repeats, not quite understanding.

"You keep stealing my ships," his explanation is soft, uncharacteristically patient, "so I keep building new ones. It makes perfect sense, doesn't it?"

"I didn't steal anything," she objects without thinking, struck with the logic behind her husband's words. "That man did."

"That man? Who? Why would you lie to me, Hilda? Why would you run away?" Cid finally turns his head in her direction, and she desperately wants to say something, but she can't even open her mouth. "You are ruthless," he finishes calmly, no trace of anger in his voice. And then his face changes—all wrinkles disappear, eyes turn a startling shade of blue, while his hair grows longer, white, twisting around his bony shoulders. "It's okay, though." The younger man smiles at her, and suddenly, she no longer remembers how to breathe. "Sometimes there is no other way. Sometimes, you have to be ruthless in order to survive."

* * *

Hilda woke up later than usual, at least four hours after dawn, when the sun was already high up in the sky. She didn't open her eyes at once. Still trapped in the memory of her strange, unsettling dream—and perhaps quite unwilling to face reality—she simply rolled onto her back and sighed, trying to gather enough energy to start yet another bad day.

The air was filled with a nice, tempting aroma of coffee, which finally sparkled the woman's curiosity. She sat up, looking around her bedroom for the source of the smell. Her gaze fell on a small, lacquer tray that stood on a nearby table, and the mystery was instantly solved. The tray contained a porcelain cup of coffee, a few slices of toast, some cheese and olives, among other things. At least her captor remembered that prisoners had to be fed.

Hilda didn't even want to think about _how_ this breakfast had found its way to her room, although she already knew the answer. Some mage must have brought it here, early in the morning, when she was still asleep, completely unaware of the intruder's presence. The mere idea of having one of these creatures walk freely into her unlocked cabin—for the key had 'mysteriously disappeared' just after the ship had been kidnapped—was unpleasant, to say the least. Still, she thought, it could have been worse. Much worse.

It could have been Kuja.

But of course it hadn't been Kuja, she was certain of that. For all his impeccable politeness, the young man was probably too self-assured, too arrogant to do such an obsequious thing himself. He would never sneak up on her… or would he?

After all, he was still a man. A young one, at that, completely unpredictable. True, so far he had shown very little interest in her as a _woman_, but it didn't have to mean anything. If her assumptions were correct, he was no older than twenty, which made him almost half her age—but she had already heard seventeen-year-old boys compliment her in way that would probably make a more prudish lady blush.

What did he want from her, anyway? Why had he decided to keep her alive if he didn't really intend to let her go? Wincing slightly, she ran a list of possible reasons in her mind: physical desire, money from a ransom, political blackmail. Was he interested in any of these things? Or was it only a game to him? Did he simply enjoy her discomfort? Made her a prisoner for the sake of his own amusement?

Hilda got out of bed at last, and then walked up to the table. She intended to reach for the tray, but froze at the sight of a very familiar object that had been placed next to it.

It was her dagger.

"You bastard," an angry hiss escaped her lips before she could stop herself. "You actually find it _funny_, do you not?"

She realized all too well that the dagger in her room was nothing but a clear display of power and self-confidence on Kuja's part, his way of saying that he didn't even consider her a threat. She could nearly imagine him laughing in her face. Perhaps he wanted to give her a choice between submitting herself willingly to his command, and putting up a fight, which in this case was equivalent to committing suicide. The dagger was useless, and they both knew it.

For a long, thoughtful moment, she kept turning the hilt in her smooth fingers. Then her gaze wandered back to the small tray.

Hilda hardly ever lowered herself to such ridiculous, lordly things as eating meals in her bed, and yet today she felt like making an exception. She had managed to keep a cool head so far, instead of giving in to her rising despair, but unfortunately, such bravery came at a price. The last two days, combined with everything else she had had to endure in the past couple of weeks, had left her noticeably exhausted, almost unwilling to struggle any longer. For a brief moment, as the light tray touched her knees and she was finally able to relax, there was nothing she wanted more than to stay in her bed _forever_—or at least till noon.

The temptation was gone as soon as Hilda reopened her eyes. Drowning in miserable self-pity was useless, adversities had to be faced, not dodged. Her current situation seemed helpless at first glance, but there were still things she could do, things she _needed_ to do—such as finding out what their current route was.

* * *

_I'd recommend you not to disturb the puppets_, he had said. _They might react quite badly to such disruptions._

Now, what did 'react badly' mean? Hilda stopped in the doorway, once again torn between fear and rising frustration. If she couldn't even feel safe in Kuja's company, then what about the Black Mages? Had he ordered them not to hurt her? Would they listen? Were they truly as obedient as they seemed?

When she had run into a pair of them for the very first time, they had been quite ready to kill her, she knew. Only Kuja's unexpected arrival had saved her from sharing the poor crew's fate. She didn't even want to imagine _what_ would have happened if the man had appeared a minute too late, didn't even want to find out just what this mysterious 'Black Magic' looked like. She hoped she would _never_ have to find out.

Well, frightened or not, she wasn't going to remain in her room forever.

She made sure to choose the quickest, shortest route to the pilot room, resisting the urge to venture outside, onto the main deck. Much to her relief, the corridors turned out to be empty, almost eerily quiet. Ten minutes later she was already standing by the right door, reaching for a small handle, totally unaware of the very unpleasant surprise that awaited her inside.

The pilot room was filled with their pointy hats.

There were nine of them, to be exact. Busy, completely preoccupied with whatever tasks they had just been doing. They probably didn't even see her enter, because none of the hats moved, no pair of yellow spectacles rose to scan her face.

Puppets, he had kept calling them. Surely, he must have meant it in a metaphorical sense, and yet Hilda was once again taken aback with how empty their eyes seemed, as if there was nothing behind them—no mind, no understanding, no emotions.

Then again, maybe it was only an illusion; her own, completely inaccurate impression. After all, she was only human, and humans, no matter how perceptive, generally had much trouble trying to understand each other, let alone their fellow species. Take the Marsh Tribe, for example: it was widely agreed that they were sentient creatures, similar to humans in many respects, and yet most people couldn't even determine their sexes, let alone their emotions…

Hilda sighed heavily, unable to tear her gaze away from the swaying hats. The Qu were the Qu—a tribe she familiar with, if only a little—and these 'Black Mages' were something entirely different, a race completely unheard of. Just where had they come from? Why would they remain so distant, so silent, when it was obvious that they could talk? What made them so dangerous, and why did they seem so out of place here, almost unnatural? Come to think of it, she wasn't even certain if she had ever seen any drawings of them in the _World's Greatest Lexicon of Sentient Species—_printed approximately two centuries ago, this nine-hundred-page book was still considered the most reliable source of knowledge on all Gaian tribes—and if so, were they even _supposed_ to exist…?

Ah, but they did exist, beyond a shadow of doubt. She was currently starring at nine living, breathing proofs of their very existence. Worse still, one of these irrefutable proofs was currently blocking her path to the main navigation panel, the place she wanted to reach the most.

Kuja's calm, dispassionate warning once again rang in her ears, and she felt her uneasiness return. Nevertheless, it was not in her nature to give up so easily. She walked up to the immobile mage—currently preoccupied with cleaning a brass telescope—and stopped but a few inches away, hoping that the creature would somehow read her intentions and move aside. She was met with complete, utter ignorance. A pair of glowing eyes rose to her face, blinked slowly, almost half-heartedly, but the chubby legs didn't even budge. Hilda suppressed an annoyed sigh. Yesterday, when she had tried to decline Kuja's so-called invitation, the mages had been equally irresponsive.

For a brief moment, she felt like grabbing the little individual by his shoulders and giving him a strong shake. She did nothing of the sort, of course. The 'little individual' was probably capable of killing her in a matter of seconds, and he would have most certainly mistaken her exasperation for a direct assault. Hilda knew she would have to be calm and patient, yet she had no time for staring contests, either. The entire situation was getting more and more irritating with each clueless, yellow blink.

"Could you _please_ move aside?" she began slowly, in a quiet, patronizing tone, usually reserved for very young children. The twin, glowing pools flashed slightly—she could almost swear that there was at least _some_ understanding within these yellow depths. And true enough, before she could even repeat her sentence, the rounded feet moved. The mage took four careful steps back, then three to the left, and Hilda was finally able to walk past him, to the main navigational table.

As usual, there was a huge map laying there, covered with a thin layer of fine, translucent glass, on which, in a beautiful red ink, the ship's current route was marked. The elegant crimson line started in a small, barely visible spot, located somewhere in the middle of the Eunorus Plains, then went upwards, towards the Burmecian border, with several more dots placed along the way. A thoughtful expression on her face, Hilda raised her thumb and the index finger to touch the map in two places. She was no expert in navigation, yet she knew what these dots meant: one had been made to indicate the airship's position at midnight, approximately twelve hours ago, and the other one marked a point they had passed at six o'clock. The first was located south of the Byan Heights, still within Lindblum borders, the second a bit to the north, among the Popos Heights, south-east of Burmecia. Hilda sighed, then traced the thin line with her index finger, expression gradually changing to that of utter disbelief.

It was exactly as Kuja had said. They were _indeed_ traveling north, and the airship's route ended in a place called Kiera Desert, a large area located on the Outer Continent. Literally on the other side of the world.

Hilda had to lean against the glass for support as the realization sank in. Why would anyone travel _there_, of all places? To the Outer Continent, the land of vicious monsters and bizarre creatures? What could a man like Kuja, seemingly a nobleman used to luxury, seek in such a wild, dangerous place? Fame, fortune, adventure? A buyer for Cid's ship? Well, the final possibility made at least _some_ sense. After all, if Kuja continued to fly the Hilda Garde around the Mist Continent, he _would_ get caught sooner or later.

A small, rustling sound at her side pulled her out of her reverie. Startled, she turned to the right, only to find herself inches away from a familiar, upturned hat.

The mage didn't say a word, but he kept watching her expectantly, as if waiting for her to move, in exactly the same way she had stared at him only a couple of moments ago. Unable to withstand the hollow gaze any longer, Hilda slowly took a few steps back and observed, wearily, as the creature walked up to the map. He reached for a quill and a bottle of ink, and then carefully placed yet another red spot along the crimson line.

The explanation was simple: it was already midday, and the mage was marking the airship's current position. Hilda's eyes quickly slid down to the lower dot, then to the scale at the bottom, and back to the newest mark. She calculated the distance in her mind. The results were not very optimistic. They were traveling very fast, perhaps not at the ship's full speed, but fast, nonetheless. Each passing day took them a good three hundred miles away from Lindblum. And if they actually crossed the ocean… wouldn't it be too late for any escape attempts?

What options did she have, anyway? She glanced at the chubby silhouette behind the steering wheel. It seemed that the mage would sooner fight her than budge from his spot willingly. What about subtler methods, then? How intelligent were these creatures? What if she simply redrew the lines on the map? Was there any hope of changing the ship's route without anyone noticing? Would the mages follow the new directions?

There was no way of answering any of these questions, other than putting her plan into practice.

She would need a magical solvent to erase the red line of the glass, a quill, some ink and a ruler. All these items lay nearby, tempting, almost begging to be taken. She slowly uncorked a small vial, ready to pour its contents over the map–

"I'm afraid you're only wasting your time, my lady," a soft voice spoke somewhere behind her back.

Hilda started, the vial almost slipping out of her fingers. She managed to catch it just before it shattered against the glass pane. Her heart pounding in her chest and shoulders frozen in place, she took a couple of deep breaths, for once grateful that she wasn't facing the young, white-haired man, so that he couldn't see her panicked expression—even though, judging from his silence, he knew exactly what was going on.

The carpet must have muffled his steps. She nearly jumped for the second time when upon finally turning around, she saw him standing but a few feet away.

"I apologize for sneaking up on you like that, but I wanted to see what you were doing." He made no attempt to hide his smirk. "Coincidentally, I was just walking past this cabin, and well… you forgot to close the door."

She wasn't sure if she was blushing, but her cheeks certainly felt a bit hotter than usual. She resisted the urge to lower her gaze, though.

"You will not be able to cross the ocean with a broken engine," she said. "My technicians had not finished repairing it when you saw fit to slaughter them."

"The engine has already been taken care of," he replied evenly.

"I doubt it. This airship is nothing but a barely functioning prototype. Even an experienced professional would have much trouble trying to figure out how its engine works. For a layman, it would be completely impossible." She pointedly slid her gaze over the surrounding hats. "Are your servants capable of dealing with the repairs?"

The smirk was still there. "No, but I am."

"That is just splendid." If a glare could kill, Kuja would be breathing his last in a matter of seconds. "We will not crash, then. What a relief. Now please, excuse me, while I go back to my room and celebrate." She attempted to brush past him in a practiced, nonchalant manner, as if he wasn't even there. Much to her dismay, however, he followed her almost immediately—his footsteps soft, yet distinctively audible—and she had no choice but to stop, because having _this _man behind your back was not a terribly bright idea.

"What is it, Lady Hilda?" Kuja raised an eyebrow at her, when she came to a halt just before the door. He obviously didn't intend to leave her alone, at least not for the time being. "Shall we go?"

She clenched her teeth in silent frustration. There was unfortunately no way she could tell him togo to hell without sounding too offensive and provoking him further. "Where to?"

"Outside, of course. Or do you wish to stay here and watch the puppets work? It's not very interesting, I assure you." He shrugged, bowing slightly. "After you."

Yet again, his voice sounded more like an order than anything else. She gave him a stiff nod and walked through the door, swallowing a curse at the sound of his laughter.

"You are not, by any chance, spying on me, are you?" she snapped irritably, in a much less civil tone than usual, realizing her mistake only when it was too late.

"I wouldn't dare," he chuckled. "I was just going to have some breakfast, that's all. The dinning room happens to be exactly this way."

"Breakfast, at this hour?" She shook her head, it was already past noon.

"It seems like I've been spending too much time in Treno, if you know what I mean." Kuja's usual, deceptively pleasant smile was still hanging firmly in its place.

"I see," she said. The people of Treno, be it a lowly thief, a humble clerk, or a mighty duchess, were known for their many peculiar habits. Rumor had it that they hardly ever went to bed until midnight, and rarely got up until midday. "Is that where you come from?" The more she thought about it, the more sense it made. Kuja looked and acted exactly like a Treno nobleman, from the stunning, extravagant cut of his clothes, to the infuriating, nonchalant air of superiority he wore.

"Well, you _can_ say that." His voice sounded as carefree as ever. "I used to live there for a couple of years. In fact, I still do, most of the time. It's the best place in Alexandria, if you'd ask me. Marble buildings, magnificent ballrooms, seventeen wine taverns, five theaters, one opera house, twelve brothels… Am I boring you, Lady Hilda?"

"I am afraid that I do not like the city very much," she admitted absently, at the same time wondering how to ask him about his surname—the surname he wouldn't give her three days ago. Whoever he was, he would eventually have to pay for his crimes, she was certain of that, but first, she needed to establish his identity. "Even a short stay can soon become tiring. And the people who live there seem quite unreliable."

"Unreliable? Are you talking about all those thieves?"

"No, I am talking about all those banks, shops and other institutions that often stay closed until eleven o'clock in the morning. And about intoxicated officials who sober up only on Tuesdays–"

"Only to tell you that they are too hung-over to do their job properly," the younger man interrupted with a low chuckle. "I know, I know. Still, it's a local custom. As old as the regency in Lindblum. One has to get used to it."

"Well, I find this custom rather peculiar. Unnatural."

"Define 'natural', then."

If was a rhetorical question, of course, one that she was not supposed to answer, especially because they had just reached the main deck.

"A beautiful view, isn't it?" Kuja sighed dreamingly, walking up to the railing and leaning forward. With his back turned on her like that, he made a suspiciously easy target, and Hilda's thoughts involuntarily ran to the dagger hidden in the folds of her dress. Her hands remained motionless, though. She couldn't resist the impression that this man's vulnerability was only an illusion, just another aspect of his dangerous, incomprehensible game—a game she found far from amusing.

Kuja's presence made her weary. His lazy, casual remarks irked her nerves beyond measure. Still, no matter how much tiresome the whole situation was, there were many questions she needed to ask him. Preferably soon.

"Why are we flying to the Outer Continent?" she began in a calm, ostensibly disinterested voice, at the same time wondering if she would ever be able to fool him. "Why would you want to go there, of all places? Past the boundaries of civilization?"

"'The boundaries of civilization'? The 'Outer' Continent?" He let out an amused sigh, straightening himself up to meet her gaze. "I guess everything depends on one's point of view, hm? You've never traveled beyond Alexandria or Burmecia, have you?"

"I have never felt the need to." She wondered where the slightly mocking tone in his voice had come from. "After all, not many people live there, and besides, it is supposed to be nothing more than a desolate wasteland."

"It hasn't always been so. The entire continent used to be a land of forests and lakes, much like the Mist Continent of today… yet, ever so slowly, life is being sucked out of the earth by the Tree's roots."

"The trees' roots?" She had no idea what he was talking about.

"Never mind." He laughed once again, leaning over the railing in an almost childish, excited manner. "Look, Lady Hilda, it's the North Gate. Soon, we'll be flying over the Quarza Bay. Your husband has build a truly magnificent ship," he breathed almost dreamily. "It's faster than any Mist-powered engine on Gaia. We should reach he Triquai Plains in less than eight days."

Hilda suppressed an angry hiss. Whether she liked it or not, in less than eight days she would find herself on the other side of the Northern Ocean, at least two thousand miles away from home… Her gaze drifted to the right, to the _south_, towards the Lindblum border they had recently crossed.

"Missing home, already?" Kuja's casual remark startled her.

"What else would you expect?" A great deal of bitterness and frustration had crept into her words.

"There's no need to curse your fate, Lady Hilda." He finally turned to her, his voice still devoid of any sympathy whatsoever. "You will be staying at my home. It's a nice place, I assure you, so why don't you just use the opportunity and take a break from the stench of big cities?"

"What do you need me for?"

Her abrupt demand brought yet another, seemingly light-hearted smile to his face. "Nothing, really. I told you, my lady, I was merely interested in the ship, not in kidnapping anyone."

"Fine." She took a deep a breath. "Let me rephrase my question, then. What are you _planning_ to do with me?"

"Hmm, that's a tricky one…" The mask of artificial politeness suddenly vanished from Kuja's face, which was perhaps the very last thing Hilda should have expected, or wanted. Seeing him serious, just like this, was much more terrifying than having to play one of his games. "I've already told you that I can't let you go, simply because I have no time for side trips, and leaving you here, in the middle of nowhere, would certainly lead to your death. In other words, I have no choice but to keep you on the ship." His dark blue eyes narrowed slightly. "You may be of some use to me, after all."

The heaviness in her stomach grew. "Are you talking about a ransom?"

She dreaded this possibility more than anything else. It would mean utter humiliation in her husband's eyes.

"Not necessarily." He shrugged. "A few extra coins mean little to me, certainly much less than _you_ do. The truth is, you are currently your husband's weakness." She bristled at that, already opening her mouth to retort, but he was faster, cutting her short with a small motion of his hand. "Please, don't give me that look, Lady Hilda. I didn't mean that as an insult. What I wanted to say is… Well, the regent's not so strong without you. And I may want to use that in the future."

"If you will ever try to blackmail him, I swear–"

"Don't waste your breath on empty threats," he interrupted in a bored monotone, and she inhaled sharply, struck with the firmness of this statement. "Besides," he chuckled, his expression suddenly changing, "such thoughts have never crossed my mind, trust me. Why don't you try relaxing a little bit? I said I wouldn't hurt you, and I'm inclined to keep my promise… Just this once."

"For how long will I have to remain your prisoner?"

"For as long as necessary. You shouldn't worry about it too much. I'm sure you'll enjoy your stay in my palace. I won't be able to keep you company all the time, but the puppets will take good care of you."

They were both silent for a long while, Kuja wordlessly contemplating the distant peaks, Hilda trying to stop her traitorous hands from trembling.

"You are a ruthless man," she eventually said, her eyes downcast, voice uncharacteristically quiet.

"Sometimes," there was a slight, almost nonexistent change in his tone, "you have to be ruthless, in order to survive."

Once again, a long, overpowering silence fell between them.

"Your 'puppets'," Hilda was the first one to speak, "these 'Black Mages'? What _are_ they? Do they live on the Outer Continent? Like the Dwarves, or the Qu?"

Kuja's laughter, never too warm to begin with, was now a long, low and definitely unpleasant sound, sending involuntary shivers down her spine. "No. I use the word 'puppets' in its most literal sense. They're nothing but artificially made beings."

"Artificially made beings?" she echoed, searching his face for any traces of sarcasm, yet finding absolutely none.

"Correct." He shrugged dispassionately, raising a hand to brush a white strand of hair off his forehead. "You may call them sentient if you wish, but there's not much in the terms of mind behind these eyes, and no soul whatsoever."

"Do not mock me."

"On the contrary, my lady. I'm deadly serious."

"You…" She was at a loss for words, whereas he seemed distinctively amused. "Have you…"

"I had the knowledge necessary to do such a thing, yes. All I needed to do was to find someone with enough means."

"Who?" Hilda finally managed.

"They're weapons. Perfect ones, at that." He gave her one of his ambiguous smiles, one that could mean literally everything, from indirect sarcasm to self-amused satisfaction. "Soldiers that do not know fear or fatigue, only blind obedience… There are many people in this silly, little world who would be interested in such an army."

"Who?" she repeated, her mouth suddenly dry, fingers clenching around the heavy folds of her dress.

"You refuse to tell me any of your secrets, yet insist that I give you mine?" The smile was still hanging firmly in its place, unsupported by the sheer coldness radiating from his eyes. "How _unfair_… Then again, on the other hand, does it make any difference if I tell you or not? What could you possibly do to foil my plans, hmm, my caged lioness?" Choked with anger, taken aback by the man's impertinence, Hilda could only watch his smirk grow wider, more insolent.

"There's a popular saying in Treno," he went on after a brief pause, "'Anger kills beauty', or something to that effect. Personally, I find it very much untrue. You look quite beautiful right now, Lady Hilda."

He slowly took a step in her direction, raising a white, slender hand, as if to stroke her cheek, and time came to a halt, along with Hilda's heart. Just like two days ago, he had caught her completely off guard, defenseless in this ridiculous, awkward moment, completely at his mercy and unable to say _anything_…

The hand never reached her cheek. Suddenly, the spell broke, and she was able to move. She took an instinctive step back, finally remembering how to breathe.

"Don't worry, Lady Hilda," he laughed, the tension suddenly lost. "Truth be told, my taste in women runs in a different direction." The outstretched hand fell slowly to his stomach. "Oh, my. How come it's already so late and I'm still hungry? I must be going now, and I don't suppose that you would want to accompany me… I'll see you in the evening, then." He paused abruptly, a small, all too familiar smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Oh, and just in case you're wondering if it's possible to change the ship's route without anyone noticing… Well, it wouldn't have worked. Nice try, though."

* * *

**End of Chapter Three**

* * *

Author's Notes: Writing witty, eloquent dialogues gets kinda difficult if you're not an intelligent person yourself. :) Damn, I must've bored you to death. Nevertheless, thanks for reading!


	4. When Negotiations Fail…

Author's Notes: Ladies and Gentlemen, this is a lousy filler chapter. :) A fangirl's fantasy. A trip to the verge of OOCness. Meaning, there will be no brilliant exchanges between our two favorite characters. No snide remarks aimed at Hilda, no more pretending on Kuja's part, no fascinating lectures on the history of Terra. For all that you will have to wait until the fifth chapter is published. Today, you'll only get one beautiful dragoness, one crazy Guardian and one scramble for the white-haired bishie.

If you have, by any chance, wondered if it was possible for Kuja to become even more ruthless and sarcastic, then the answer is: yes, it was. Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter Four**

* * *

The following week brought the biggest challenge of them all, and it was neither fear of death nor the sense of entrapment. It was boredom.

Each day on the ship began according to the same unwritten schedule. Hilda would wake up early in the morning, just before a mage came into her cabin, carrying a small tray with breakfast. She ate her meal in silence, usually next to an open window, and then reached for some book, flipping through the pages rather than actually reading. By four o'clock she was already outside, strolling about the upper deck, occasionally pausing to take a look at the ocean's gray surface, at the waves dancing at least six hundred feet below. The sight was somewhat soothing, yet strangely terrifying at the same time—when the sun hid behind the clouds, the line of the horizon became invisible and everything turned blurry. It was impossible to tell where the sky ended and where the water started. On days like those, Hilda would hastily withdraw into her cabin, overwhelmed by the sheer amount of _blue_, weighted down by her own uneasiness… and then there was nothing left to do, but to patiently await yet another perfectly tasteless dinner in Kuja's company.

The mages knew how to prepare a decent breakfast—at least they had enough common sense to avoid mixing plum jam and chili peppers—but arranging a passable _warm_ meal seemed to be far beyond their capabilities. They didn't have the faintest idea about just _how_ certain seasonings should be used, never realized that too much cream could ruin almost every soup, and even such simple things as coating caused them major problems. Practical to a fault, Hilda found these shortcomings quite irritating. She felt tempted to take matters into her own hands, to start cooking for herself. Such a radical solution was entirely out of question, though. She would _not_ give her captor yet another reason to mock her.

Besides… every time she found herself in the dinning chamber, in Kuja's company, contemplating the peculiar taste of half-burnt veal and poorly-baked potatoes would be the very last thing on her mind. In this man's presence, everything—_literally everything_—quickly became unimportant, faded into the background in a matter of seconds. He loved being in the center of attention, and he would enforce it with all possible means. He never had to resort to any tricks, though. Hilda realized, all too well, that it would be dangerous not to pay attention to his words.

He made a decent conversationalist, she supposed, perhaps even too decent. He seemed to know a lot about everything, from viticulture to contemporary painting, and he apparently felt obliged to share his views and knowledge with her, whether she wanted it or not. He could talk for_ hours—_voice genuinely interested, lips curled into a pleasant smile—pausing only to comment on some of her half-hearted remarks, or to moisten his throat with a sip of red wine. At first, she had assumed that he simply wanted to show off in front of her, impress her for some gods-know-what reason. She had been wrong, of course. It had soon turned out that he cared very little about her reactions. The truth seemed to be much, much more prosaic: he was just naturally talkative. And perhaps a bit lonely, as well, but Hilda couldn't be too certain about that. From her point of view, it didn't really matter.

She wished he would just leave her alone.

She missed her quiet conversations with Cid, warm days they had used to spend at the top of the castle, surrounded by ivy and cooing pigeons. She missed his funny anecdotes, gentle compliments… Damn it all, she was even beginning to miss these endless disquisitions on transmission gears and ball bearings…

In Cid's company she could at least feel safe. She didn't have to watch her every single word.

Oh, Kuja could be perfectly charming, if only he wanted to… but most often he was not. His natural spitefulness usually got the better of his impeccable manners; he ended up being sarcastic every couple of sentences, constantly balancing between disarming straightforwardness and casual politeness. Even if they kept talking about most trivial, perfectly neutral matters—such as the influence of the recent pearl divers' strike on Lindblum economy—sooner or later, their conversation was bound to turn into a verbal sparring of sorts. A sparring she could hardly ever win. For all her dislike towards the insufferable man, she had to admit but one thing.

Kuja was exceptionally clever.

He hardly ever ran out of arguments.

* * *

Hilda ran a hand through her short, straw-colored hair, smoothed down a stiff, linen corset, no longer as tight as it had once been, perhaps due to her spare diet, and perhaps because she was simply unable to lace it up properly without a maid's help. Her long dress rustled quietly as she walked up to a small, circular window and glanced outside, at several clouds floating across the sky like a flock of stray sheep, driven by a gentle, summer breeze.

There was something wrong with the ship, but she wasn't sure _what_ it was. Something with the main engine, perhaps…? Had it finally decided to break down on them, in this least fortunate moment, when they were still flying over the ocean, with no more than fifty miles separating them from the continent's shores? Had they run out of fuel? Hilda tilted her head to the side, listening to the machine's oddly high-pitched, strained wailing, wondering what else could have gone wrong, when the answer suddenly hit her. Nothing was wrong. They must have simply… stopped in midair?

It _was_ possible, of course. Prototype or not, Hilda Garde was no ordinary ship, she could perform much more complicated maneuvers than that. Still, Hilda found the whole situation surprising, and perhaps also a bit alarming. Just _what_ was Kuja thinking…? Did he plan to land the heavy machine on the water? Didn't he realize that it _definitely_ wouldn't work, that the airship would only sink in the process? Oh, but there was no point in hovering over the waves, either, unless they were lost, or in any other trouble.

She disliked wild guesses and useless speculations, and so, several moments later she was already hurrying down the main corridor. Golden sunbeams, bursting inside through a row of tiny, oval windows, formed a spectacular mosaic of light and shadow across the smooth, wooden floor. Tiny particles of dust kept dancing in the air as she walked past, the elegant green dress trailing behind her like a proud peacock's tail.

Outside, the engines' mad wailing became louder, even more unpleasant. Hilda stopped a couple of feet away from the door, carefully looking around, almost wishing she would catch a glimpse of Kuja's bright clothes. The man was nowhere to be seen, though, and neither were any of his mages. Shaking her head in disappointment, she took a few steps towards the railing, and only then did she finally notice the most significant change in her surroundings.

She had expected to see nothing but the shimmering ocean, foaming waves and dark patches of seaweed, yet there was no water under the hull. Instead, she saw a large stretch of brownish, sun-cracked earth; a flat, monotonous wasteland, dried up and seemingly uninhabited, for there was absolutely no sign of life in sight; no town, no village, not even a pack of wild animals. As if she had just reached the very edge of the world.

So far away from home, surrounded by a landscape so different from the lovely hills of Lindblum… It made her feel almost sick. In fact, she couldn't even make out the coastline anymore, they must have crossed the ocean at least an hour ago.

She quickly forced herself to take a couple of deep breaths, perfectly aware that worry and anger weren't going to change a thing in her situation. _Under_ _different circumstances_, she thought bitterly, _I would have certainly found such a journey quite pleasant… exciting, even._ Right now, however, she was not a bold adventurer, discovering new lands and facing new challenges.

She was only a prisoner. And speaking of her captor...

This time, she could hear him approach with relative ease. He wanted her to know that he was coming, it showed clearly in the way he moved, footsteps loud and deliberate, even though he was perfectly capable of sneaking up on her in a matter of seconds. Shaking off her temporary depression, she slowly turned in his direction. A moment later, their eyes met.

Hilda suppressed an involuntary sigh.

Kuja looked… different than usual, much unlike the ever-cheerful, ever-sarcastic man she had already grown accustomed to. Both insolent laziness and deceptive vulnerability had vanished without a trace, replaced by a strangely disconcerting aura of stillness and silent determination. Gone were the silk, wide sleeves and the shining, diamond earrings, along with the rest of his jewelry. The delicate make-up was missing, too; she could see no henna lines framing his cornflower eyes—eyes that suddenly seemed much, much older than only a day before, oddly out of place with the rest of his youthful, inhumanly perfect face.

A noisy flock of large, dark feathered birds flew over their heads, the panicked flapping of their wings momentarily drowning out all other sounds, even the engines' unsteady wheezing. Hilda looked up sharply, grateful for the distraction. She knew she had been staring at the younger man for too long, almost to the point of being rude herself.

"Wild geese," she heard him murmur under his breath, much to her own surprise. "They hardly ever venture this far to the south."

"Something must have scared them away," she observed quietly, choosing to ignore a sudden pang of fear that had pierced her chest at the sound of these words. This was the _Outer Continent_, after all… who knew what kind of flying monsters dwelled here…

Perhaps it would be best not to come too close to the railing, she thought.

"Possibly," he agreed.

Even his voice sounded different: cold and controlled, definitely lacking its usual mocking edge. And he didn't seem to be in the mood for long talks, either. Hilda sighed, watching the man tie his hair back with a long, velvet ribbon. It was black, just like the rest of his attire.

"Is this the end of our journey?" she asked calmly, even though she already knew the answer.

"No. We've only reached the Triquai Plains, and we're still four hundred miles away from our final destination."

"Why have we stopped, then?"

"I need to take care of something."

It was a vague explanation, to say the least. Hilda turned her head away, suddenly quite irritated with the younger man. For all his cheerful talkativeness, Kuja could be awfully evasive at times, especially when a direct reply would matter the most.

"Here?" Finally overcoming her hesitation, she slowly walked up to the edge of the deck, hoping to get a better view of the ground below. "In the middle of a desert?" There was something _odd_ about this ground, just as she had thought. The engines were not loud enough to drown out a low, monotonous rumble, and she could swear she could see the brownish earth shake. "What is it?" She narrowed her eyes in suspicion. "An earthquake?"

"No, not an earthquake. At least not an ordinary one."

"What do you mean?"

"If you look a bit to the left," he replied coldly, raising a hand to button a cuff, "you'll perhaps notice a large pile of dark rocks. It's the entrance to an old shrine that lies just below the ground. Its… _protector_ creates these earthquakes in order to scare off any unwelcome visitors."

"A guardian spirit that is capable of creating an earthquake?" she wondered out loud. "Could it be… one of the legendary Eidolons?"

"It's most certainly _not_ an Eidolon," Kuja grimaced. A few loose strands once again fell into his eyes; he brushed them away with a quick, annoyed flick of his wrist. "More of a demon, really. A vile, disgusting creature that calls himself a Guardian, one of the four Guardians of Chaos. Together, they protect the Four Mirrors that seal the gateway to Terra."

Hilda stirred slightly. She could only hope that she didn't appear as clueless as she felt. Guardians of chaos? Four mirrors and the gateway to terra? Whatever that was supposed to mean?

She turned away from the railing. Kuja made no effort to avoid her skeptical gaze, yet said absolutely nothing, obviously unwilling to go into further explanations. Hilda didn't want to push him, either, at least not for now. There were still other, much more important things she had to worry about.

"You will not be able to land the airship here," she pointed out calmly. "The plating is too delicate, it will not withstand the vibrations."

"Landing won't be necessary."

"Not necessary?" She raised an eyebrow at him. "Then I do not see how you are planning to–"

He cut her short with a sharp whistle.

Quite shocked—and also a bit offended—she frowned, tiling her head to the side, wondering what would come next. A small army of mages rushing to the main deck, perhaps? Or would the ground simply stop shaking by some inexplicable miracle? She was already opening her mouth to comment on _that_, when a deafening shriek rent the air, and a long, spindle-like shape shot out from under the hull, soared upwards with a loud swish of feathers, coming to a halt in midair, just a couple of feet from the railing.

Hilda froze.

It was a_ dragon_, for gods' sake, a huge, massive creature the size of a hayrack wagon, covered with silvery-white feathers from the top of its head to the very tip of its outstretched tail. It hovered in front of the ship for a couple of painfully long moments, massive wings steadily beating against the air, then flew forward, gracefully landing on the polished planks. It must have weighted at least a couple of quintals, Hilda suddenly realized, and yet the airship didn't even sway.

Torn between the urge to run away and the inability to tear her gaze away from the beast—_would it attack if I took as much as a step back…?_—she stared at the sight in stunned silence. The dragon, on its part, instantly lowered its head, watching her carefully with a pair of piercing black eyes.

"Don't worry." Kuja's calm, almost _reassuring_ voice suddenly pulled her out of her thoughts. Hilda whipped round in his direction, only to see him nod at the creature. "She's just curious, she won't hurt you."

"'She'…?" Hilda slowly raised a trembling hand to her mouth; it was all too much for her. She just wished the… _dragoness_—awfully sharp claws no father that twenty feet away—would stop looking at her as if she were a potential prey.

She risked yet another glance at Kuja. The man didn't seem afraid at all, even though she had half-expected to see him at least slightly nervous. Then again, he wasn't smiling, either…

She heard him sigh, though, and their eyes finally met. "The name's Charcoal," he said, lips twitching almost unnoticeably, as if he was having a hard time trying not to laugh. "And no, she doesn't eat people."

"…Oh." Unfortunately, it was the only coherent reply she could think of. Her panic attack had already subsided, yet she was still feeling _quite_ uncomfortable.

Kuja brushed her off with a nonchalant shrug. She watched him walk up to beast—there was no hesitation in his movements—and than saw the dragoness trying to slip her large, sleek head under his hand, as if expecting to be stroked. The young man leant forward, burying his hands in a mass of swirling feathers in a surprisingly gentle gesture. He said something fast under his breath. Hilda could hear the words perfectly well, and yet she did not understand any of them – it was a completely unfamiliar language, one she had never heard before.

And then, when she was certain that hardly anything could surprise her even more, he simply jumped onto the beast's back—with the greatest of ease, showing at least months, if not _years_ of practice. Hilda stifled a hollow sigh, for the dragoness didn't even stir, seemingly used to such well-known routine.

"Well, I'll be going now," Kuja announced calmly, leaning forward as the silver creature spread out her wings and leapt from the deck, rising into the air. "I should be back in an hour or two. Just don't try anything funny in my absence. This dagger of yours is perfectly useless, you do realize that, don't you? The puppets can take care of you in less than ten seconds."

* * *

He had almost forgotten what it felt like, to glide through the air on Sumi's back, surrounded by gusts of cool air and the swish of silver feathers. The ground so far down, movements unrestricted, the sweet taste of adrenaline in his mouth, the sensation of absolute freedom… As if he truly had a pair of his own wings. As if he truly was an angel.

Many, many years ago—_back then_,_ on Terra—_it had perhaps used to be his only entertainment: a temporary escape from Garland's power, from his own helplessness, from the atrocity of it all. A way of keeping his sanity. He had spent countless days on the dragoness' back, flying from one ruined metropolis to another, searching for ancient knowledge, trying to find something, anything, that would help him free himself of his Master.

With his arrival to Gaia, however, things had changed beyond all recognition. Gaia was not a polluted, post-apocalyptic world, where most machines had already crumbled to dust, and where a mount was supposed to have fangs in order to keep its rider alive. No, Gaia had Mist-engines (he still wanted to laugh every time he heard people marvel at these; what a joke it was, poor morons had no idea about the Mist's true nature), airships, boats, cableways and wagons, not to mention sedan chairs, chocobos, carriages… dozens of more or less extraordinary means of transport a wealthy person could use. But a dragon… A dragon would still attract attention, and there had been a time when he had wanted to avoid that at all costs. Besides, he had quickly fallen in love with a settled way of life, with all sorts of entertainment big cities could offer. Lost himself in pleasures he had never known before—from very simple ones, such as a comfortable bed and a warm cup of tea, to lavish, extravagant parties and nights at the opera…

Of course, it would be wrong to assume that his life consisted only of pleasure and blissful idleness. There had been duties, as well. Many of them. Some he found tedious, dreadful, absolutely infuriating. He abhorred working for Garland, painfully aware of the fact that each single task he performed in his Master's name brought him yet another step closer to Terra's restoration—and thus to his own demise. He hated Brahne's orders, as well. She was nothing but a greedy, impulsive, overbearing pile of lard, changeable as a weathercock. She thought she had the right to kick everyone around as she saw fit; worse still, she counted _him_ as one of her servants. And finally, he hated working with the Black Mages—for reasons he did not even want to acknowledge.

Then again, not all of his duties were equally repulsive. He liked taking care of his business in Alexandria, even if it often made him pore over various account books like some common merchant. He didn't mind supervising King's fortune, long talks about politics, his travels, the busy social life. And he _loved_ working behind Garland's back, which was what he was doing right now.

"_Land here,_" he commanded sharply, flattening himself against the dragoness' back as she dove forward. A couple of moments later, all four claws brushed against the unstable, shaking rocks. Sumi snorted in disgruntlement, turning her head to throw the rider a very hurt look, but she obediently dropped to the ground, wings outstretched in a desperate attempt to keep her balance. Kuja dismissed the look with a short, amused laugh. He gracefully slid of the soft, warm back, swayed yet managed to stay on his feet, instantly turning in the dragoness' direction.

"_It won't be long,_" he assured her calmly, running his hand through the feathers at the front of her neck. "_Go, stretch your wings a bit_. _I'll whistle, just as usual_."

Sumi reluctantly withdrew her head, leapt into the air with a quiet growl. Kuja watched her ascend—a white, elongated shape against the pale, distant sky—fly up to the ship, then draw a perfect circle in the air… and for a brief, fleeting moment, he wondered if Hilda was watching this, too, leaning over the wooden railing. Knowing her, she probably was… unless she had already done something unbelievably stupid, of course, such as testing her dagger on one of the mages, or trying her luck with the steering wheel. Kuja shrugged, turning in the temple's direction. He couldn't really care less.

At the entrance to the shrine, the ground was no longer shaking, protected by a primitive yet solid stabilizing spell. A narrow, dimly illuminated corridor led inside, into the sticky, reeking silence. Kuja went down a couple of steps, pausing to take his coat off, carelessly throwing it to the side. No, he didn't mind the humidity. It was all about freedom of movement. The coat, long and heavy, would have only slowed him down, and he knew that, in a matter of moments, he might be forced to move fast. _Very_ fast. After all, he hadn't come here for a lovely stroll among ancient murals and decorative runes.

The shrine wasn't exactly the safest of places; hell, it was a damn labyrinth, bristling with all sorts of traps: exploding tiles, blind alleys, poisonous fumes, ceilings covered with spikes and moving walls that could crush unsuspecting visitors in the blink of an eye, turning them into a bloody heap... which was just spectacular and pretty effective. Kuja snorted at the thought, kicked a decomposing skull out of his way, turned left to walk around a particularly nasty trapdoor. Eight years ago, when Garland had made him visit the temple for the very first time, he had had to bend over backwards just to stay alive. And even though he had managed to leave the maze without a single scratch on his body, it just hadn't been funny.

Today, he was much, much more experienced, of course; he remembered which tiles to avoid, where to jump. Yes, he knew the narrow corridors like the back of his hand. Still, he moved slowly, with a great deal of caution; the tip of his tail swaying gently with each step he took. So what if he was—theoretically—capable of breezing through the shrine without activating any of the wicked surprises it had to offer? One could never be too careful, and besides, this place was just old. So old, in fact, that the traps had become unreliable. They tended to go off in the least expected moments.

It took him more than just half an hour, but he eventually reached the heart of the maze: a large, dimly lit chamber, completely empty and devoid of any colorful accents, if one didn't count a few murals, a small, dusty mosaic on the floor and a stone canopy that rose up from the middle of it.

It was an oddly depressing view. Kuja sighed. For a brief moment, he wanted to illuminate the room with artificial, magical light, but then he remembered that the sole dweller of this place didn't like light too much…

And he was nowhere to be seen.

"_Where are you, Guardian?_" The sorcerer's angry cry bounced off the chamber's walls. "_You have a visitor, haven't you already noticed?_"

He wasn't sure what alarmed him first—a barely perceptible swish of air behind his back, or the foul smell of rotting, half-digested souls—but somehow, he was able to sense danger seconds before it struck. With unbelievable, inhuman reflex he threw himself to the left, barely managing to jump out of the way as a pair of huge claws smashed into the floor, tearing out a few marble tiles. Twisting around in midair, he fell to the ground a couple of feet away, wobbled yet caught his balance, a non-elemental spell already sparkling at his fingertips.

"_What the hell was that for?_!"

"_**Ah…**_" a deep, rumbling voice replied, "_**it's just you, Angel. I haven't recognized you at first… mistook you for some little human…**_" Lich, one of the Four Guardians of Chaos, slowly straightened himself to his full height—eight feet and three inches—measuring his guest with a calm, detached gaze. At least that was how it looked like, because Lich had no eyes. He had eye sockets, instead. Plenty of them. Kuja didn't feel like counting.

"_A human that would speak Terran?! Were you out of your mind?!_"

"_**Shake that off your fingers, will you?**_"

His face still twisted in a furious, indignant snarl, the sorcerer reluctantly let the spell evaporate. "_…What a warm welcome,_" he spat.

"_**My apologies.**_" The voice didn't sound overly apologetic. "_**It would seem that I got a bit carried away. It's been a while since I last had any visitors.**_"

"_Makes me wonder why,_" Kuja muttered under his breath, at the same time wincing slightly. The Guardian had left his statement unfinished, but the message was perfectly clear: he was bored, craving for _entertainment_, by which he understood tearing people—moronic adventurers who found the shrine by pure accident—to pieces, or simply watching them die in the maze, impale themselves on some hidden spikes, break their necks in a vain attempt to clear this merry obstacle course… and so on, depending on the occasion. "_Next time, try trimming your nails and greeting your guests with a cup of coffee._"

Lich seemed untouched by the sarcasm. He moved a bit to the right, hovering over the floor like a giant specter. Eyes weren't the only body part he had never heard of. He lacked proper legs, as well. In fact, he consisted of nothing but a handful of blackened bones, several skulls and disgusting straps of rotting flesh, clad in a frayed red cape. An ancient, incredibly powerful spell was the only thing that kept this ridiculous creature from falling apart.

"_**What brings you to this place, Angel? Any important news I must be aware of?**_"

"_News?_" Kuja grimaced, finally turning away. "_Who do you think I am, some envoy of yours?_"

"_**You've come here to chat, then?**_" A few skulls rattled, Lich was laughing. "_**How touching. I feel honored.**_"

"_Don't flatter yourself._" He pressed his lips into a thin line. "_Is the energy flow stable?_"

"_**Stable as ever. Why?**_"

Kuja slowly walked up to the center of the chamber, towards the stone canopy. The Mirror wasn't there, of course, it still lay somewhere within the depths of Takarka's Castle—or _Ipsen's_ Castle, as some ignorant Gaians would call it. He slid his fingers over the oval hollow, absently tracing the spell's remains. The wall barely responded to his touch. It only became warmer, nothing more.

It was quite discouraging, to say the least. He withdrew his hand with a small shrug.

"_I've come to ask you a favor._"

Lich floated up to the canopy, but he was too big to squeeze underneath. "_**What kind of favor?**_"

"_And what favor could I possibly ask of you?_" A pair of blue eyes narrowed in mockery. "_Baking a cake for Lady Stella's sixty-first birthday? Inventing an effective cure for hangover? Writing a detailed essay on Lord Avon's most popular plays, weeding a cabbage patch? Hm? What favor could that be?_" He didn't even care if the demon understood half of the things he was saying.

"_**Don't push it, Angel.**_" Huge claws twitched in barely controlled fury.

"_Sorry._" Kuja finally turned in the monster's direction, lips curled up in a charming smile. "_It would seem that I got a bit carried away._"

"_**I don't appreciate your sense of humor.**_"

"_And I don't appreciate surprise attacks from behind,_" he countered evenly, the smile already gone. Lich could find no reply to that, of course. There was a brief silence; tense and alert, Kuja inwardly counted to fifteen, waiting for the Guardian to consider his options. Just as he had expected, though, the claws eventually fell down.

It was a temporary truce of sorts. With a small sigh, he slowly walked out from under the canopy, coming to a halt by one of the pillars, no farther than thirty feet away from the silent, unmoving demon. "_…I want you to open the gateway._"

This time, he had to count to six.

"_**Will you be returning to Terra?**_"

"_Hell, no,_" he instantly bristled.

"_**What do you need the gateway for, then?**_"

"_The Invincible._ _I need to make sure that the rift will be large enough for the ship to squeeze through._"

"_**Interesting. Does the Master know about it?**_"

"_He most certainly will._"

The Guardian was not as naïve as he seemed, though, and not too easily confused. "_**He 'will', you say. Before or after the fact?**_"

Kuja didn't bother with replying; he only kept smiling, in the nastiest way he could manage. A half formed spell, invisible to the naked eye, was tickling his fingertips. Lich couldn't feel the energy pattern shift, of course; the change in Kuja's aura was far too subtle. But he could see the _smile_, and he drew his conclusions.

"_**Have you contacted the other Guardians? Takarka?**_"

"_Not yet,_" he answered absently, keeping his voice as calm and confident as possible. "_I still have some time left, though. I'll talk to them within the next few months._" Now that he had the fastest airship of Gaia, this shouldn't present much of a problem. A journey to the Forgotten Continent would take him no more than four weeks, and he would be traveling in decent, if not luxury conditions. Long trips on Sumi's back were just too exhausting for his taste.

"_**I see…**_" Lich let out a low, mocking hiss. "_**Sounds like a perfect suicide wish on your part.**_"

Kuja looked up sharply. "_I don't remember asking for your opinion._"

"_**You're welcome.**_"

"_Spare me the sarcasm. It doesn't suit you._"

"_**Whatever you say, Angel…**_" Lich folded his bony arms across his chest. "_**So, tell me, what will I gain from aiding you in this foolishness?**_"

The spell was slowly starting to burn the skin of his right palm, and Kuja had to clench his teeth to keep himself from cursing. "_How about my undying gratitude?_"

"_**Don't make me laugh.**_"

There was a brief pause.

"_Look._" Kuja rested his left hand against the pillar, his face suddenly serious, voice even colder than before. "_This is Gaia, not Terra. Garland's influence in this world is quite limited. He can't just leave Pandemonium to its fate. Even if you were to open the gateway without his permission, he wouldn't just drop everything and start chasing you, only to put you back in your place. Besides, it takes more than that to piss him off. And if really gets mad…_" no muscle twitched in the calm, pale face, "_he will get mad at _me_. You think he will care about your insubordination? No, he won't waste his precious time on _you_._"

"_**I care neither about his wrath nor about your private affairs**,_" Lich replied flatly, his empty eye sockets measuring the smaller creature from head to toe. "_**Have you forgotten? I am the Guardian of Terra. I serve neither you nor your Master. I serve only Terra.**_"

"_Who said my so-called 'private affairs' were against Terra's interests?_"

"_**The Invincible is nothing but your own whim, Angel.**_"

"_Garland doesn't need it, either!_"

He immediately regretted his emotional outburst.

"_**I don't find your logic very convincing,**_" the Guardian's tone was curt, and it left absolutely no room for disagreement. "_**That's enough, Angel. It's been a nice chat, but I'd really appreciate it if you left. Soon.**_"

This time, the silence was longer.

_"As you wish._"

"_**Good. I hope you'll find your way ou– …What is this?!**_"

The sorcerer straightened himself up, rubbing his itching palm against his hip. "_Ah, I was wondering when you would notice._"

"_**How–?! What the hell have you done?! Why can't I–?!**_" Lich kept choking on his own words.

"_Move?_" Kuja offered innocently. "_Why, that's very simple. Ever heard of the 'Stop' spell?_"

"_**That's not the point, you bastard! I didn't even see you raise a hand!**_"

"_Of course you didn't. It was a special spell, modified slightly to suit my needs,_" he chuckled, resting his back comfortably against the stone pillar, arms folded across his chest. "_A time bomb of sorts, if you prefer._"

"_**Release me!**_" The bones cracked warningly, and yet the demon didn't even budge.

"_You see,_" Kuja kept talking, ignoring the helpless rage in the Guardian's voice, "_I knew from the start that I would never manage to convince you. You wouldn't just go against the rules on your own free will, you are far too… stiff for that. But I never really intended to fight you, either._" He paused for a short moment, eying Lich's efforts critically. "_Stop trashing about, or the paralyzing sensation will become even more unpleasant._"

"_**You–! Get this off me!**_"

The sorcerer only shrugged in reply. "_I know you can counter a spell that's thrown directly into your face, and I didn't feel like resorting to a direct assault all too soon. Fortunately, it wasn't necessary. We kept talking, on and on, and the spell was slowly getting a hold over you._" By now, Lich had already ceased his desperate struggles, possibly realizing that resistance was futile. "_Feh, for such a huge creature, you're surprisingly lacking in the immunity department._"

_"__**Garland will have your head for this.**_"

"_Perhaps,_" Kuja agreed calmly, "_and perhaps not. You see… Master Garland will never learn of this incident, for how could he? Who would tell him? You?_" He tilted his head to the side. "_Me? Besides,_" he went on after a short pause, "_even if he did… he still needs me. You, on the other hand… are replaceable._"

"_**Release me.**_" The tone was low, almost resigned.

"_No._" Kuja swiftly unfolded his arms, straightening himself up in a slow, deliberate gesture. He walked up to the immobile monster, his footsteps echoing loudly across the dark chamber. "_Let me offer you a deal, first. Your life for your cooperation._"

* * *

**End of Chapter Four**

* * *

Author's Notes: So there, you've just reached the end of this random episode. You can uncover your eyes now. :) Next chapter's probably going to be better. Hilda will finally get to see the fabulous Desert Palace. And Kuja _will_ have his long speech on Terran history, or at least a part of it. :)

Many thanks to those of you who took the time to review the last update! **ZeroSystem**, **Niara**, **Rappy28**, **Blue Artemis** – I'm so _happy_ that you liked the fic so far; your opinions made me feel all warm inside. **Steeple333**, it's good to know that you keep reading this! **Celeste**, I appreciate _all_ your reviews! **Sabrina**, once again I want to thank for your e-mail—it made me finish this chapter much faster than originally planned.

**(…about Kuja's taste in women…)**

First of all, I apologize if that line sounded too weird. I'm sorry if it ruined the whole scene for you. If it was totally messed up. If it made you scratch your heads in puzzlement. :) You see, English's not my first language, and sometimes – way too often – I find it really, and I mean _really_ difficult to get my point across. :)

So, basically, Kuja was trying to say that Hilda wasn't his type. He was _not_ saying that he was gay (…even if the authoress of this fic is quite fond of slash), because he just _isn't_, at least not in this story. Oh, well. It's _his_ fault he can't speak plain Gaian, dammit.

Last chapter, he called Hilda beautiful, but I don't think he would feel physically attracted to her. We all know that Garnet's more his type. It's pretty arguable whether he really liked the little princess, but let's face it, it's _canon_, perfectly okay for the purpose of this fic. Personally, I think that Kuja would dislike a few things about Hilda's appearance – the length and the color of her hair, for example (just think about all these Genomes), her age, her choice of clothing, as well as her personality. She _can_ be quite insolent and authoritative, after all – and it's no big secret that Kuja can't stand people who talk back to him.

Oh, and by the way: I am a _huge_ Kuja/Beatrix fan (don't get me started on _that_, okay?), so if Kuja and Hilda _ever_ get to talk some more about Kuja's taste in the opposite sex, I'll probably have him swoon over a certain general. Or a certain princess. Or some totally random dark-haired courtesan from Treno, for all that I care. End of story.

**(…about a certain dragoness…)**

I hope you don't hate me for making Silver Dragon female (hey, the game never said it was a 'he', either), 'cause I just couldn't resist the urge to make it even cuter than it already was. Have you, by any chance, noticed this unwritten fanfiction rule that says that _every_ Silver Dragon is supposed to have a name starting with 'S'? Hence the 'Sumi' (Japanese for 'Charcoal'), even though I swore to myself that I would _not_ use any more Fangirl Japanese in this story.


	5. His Lordship

Author's Notes: Oh dear, my first attempt at writing Kuja, and people claim that he's in character? I feel so happy about that! Although, honestly, I would've never guessed that the key to keeping him IC would be to portray him as a complete asshole and purposely make him use women's language: question tags, "my, my!" and all that stuff. Oh, fine, it's more complex than _that_. He _is_ a tragic individual, after all. And I do believe in this "bad childhood shapes a person for the rest of their life" theory… but I'm still unwilling to turn this particular bishie into a remorseful pile of angst so all of a sudden, okay?

* * *

**Chapter Five**

* * *

"Welcome to my humble abode."

Hilda decided not to comment on Kuja's playful words for the moment, careful not to fall into any of his traps, but… well… it really _was _humble. What sort of person lived in a _cave_? Sure, it had to be an enormous cavern, at least seventy meters long and about fifty meters high, big enough to hold an airship, of all things, and yet it was perhaps one of the most morbid places she had ever seen.

She risked a quick glance at her captor. There were amused sparks in his eyes, sparks that he wasn't even trying to hide. Hilda resisted the urge to clench her hands into fists—again, he was toying with her. She only wished she knew just where the mockery lay. Had he been sarcastic all these days ago, when he had told her that she would 'enjoy her stay at his palace'? Or was he having a good laugh at her expense right now? Because the 'nice place' he had been speaking of had turned out to look like this?

"Come, Lady Hilda." Kuja's voice was smooth, nowhere near as joking as before. "Don't worry about your luggage, the puppets will take care of it."

He offered her a hand as she was walking down the gangway. She saw no reason not to take it. The passage was wobbly and narrow, and her long dress certainly didn't make things any easier. He let go off her fingers as soon as her feet touched the ground, though, obviously unwilling to overstep the boundaries of good manners.

"This," he gestured towards the cave's opening, a large rectangle of blue sky and dazzling sunlight, "is the Kiera Desert. Not your average strolling spot, I admit. The sand gets awfully hot by day, and the whole place is swarming with monsters. Have you ever head of Antlions?" Noticing the lack of reply, he went on, still in a very casual manner, "They're beasts the size of these," he pointed at the airship's two propellers, "with three pairs of legs and pincers as long as you are tall. You don't want to meet any of them, am I making myself clear?"

Was that a threat, or a warning? Was he merely trying to scare her, keep her from escaping? She shrugged slightly, turning her head away from the light, once again meeting his impassive gaze. "I would have never tried crossing the desert on foot."

She was speaking the truth, of course—she needed to take the Hilda Garde with her first, after all.

"I've never said _that_, have I?" Kuja's lips curled up into a barely noticeable smile. "But trying to steal the ship from the dock wouldn't be such a clever idea, either. Look."

They were laying their cards on the table now, weren't they? Frowning, Hilda took a peek in the given direction, at the faraway, opposite corner of the cave. She saw dozens of reddish, unmoving eyes, glowing in the darkness like burning pieces of coal.

"Monsters," she breathed, taking an involuntary step back, almost wishing she could hide behind Kuja's slender frame.

"Yes," he said smugly. "They make pretty decent watchdogs, so I tolerate their presence here. If anyone tried to sneak into the cave, these beasts would most certainly tear them apart. The same deals for those who would try _leaving_."

Hilda winced slightly. The message was startlingly clear, Kuja needn't have been so blunt.

"I… see."

"Well, then." He smiled at her. "This way, my lady."

Judging from his nonchalant gesture, 'this way' would mean coming close to the monsters, far too close for her taste. Hilda hesitated, and then suddenly remembered the silver dragon—most definitely a sentient creature. Were these beasts sentient, as well? They certainly didn't look like it.

Kuja must have noticed her half-thoughtful, half-frightened expression. "It's alright," he chuckled. "They're too afraid to attack."

_Afraid of what?_ She threw him a puzzled glance, yet kept her mouth closed.

It was already too late for doubts, anyway. Kuja started to walk, and unless she wanted to stay here, in the eyes' company, she had no choice but to follow. Sand grated under their feet as he led her through the cave, over a small stone bridge, up a couple of stairs and into a gloomy, squalid corridor. Possibly for the very first time since they had met, she felt grateful that the man kept so close to her, even after the gleaming dots had finally disappeared from view.

After no more than five minutes of walking, the passage came to an abrupt end. There was no door, no ladder, just a dark, uneven wall and a circle of bluish light on the floor, pulsating gently in the dim glow of burning torches. Hilda stopped uncertainly, unsure of where to go next. Kuja came to a halt as well; she didn't even have to look over her shoulder to know that he was standing right behind her.

"After you," he said calmly.

"What is it?" She finally turned around to meet his amused gaze.

"A teleporter—a magical device that will take you into the palace. Just step into the middle of it."

She trusted him enough to know that he was not lying, that the device wouldn't harm her in any way. Still, she was feeling slightly apprehensive about the whole thing, as she walked towards the circle.

"Close your eyes, Lady Hilda," she heard the man speak up. "It'll make your journey less unpleasant."

There was a flash of blue and a sudden lurch of gravity, a horrible sensation of falling, as if she were tumbling down into a bottomless pit. She could feel her gorge rising, but before she could panic the fall just stopped, as abruptly as it had started. The entire experience must have lasted no longer than a few seconds. With a small sigh of relief, Hilda was finally able to reopen her eyes.

A whole new world greeted her senses. She was no longer in a humid, dusty cave, but in a huge, grand hall of sorts. A hall that could easily compete with the famous Royal Chamber of Burmecia, one of the Seven Wonders of Gaia. The floor under her feet was made of white marble, green veining running through every single tile. The walls were covered with tapestries, draperies, pictures; it was a stunning feast of color, soft fabrics and golden frames, all this richness bathed in warm, shimmering candlelight. Large flowerpots with exotic plants, stained-glass windows, statues of various size and shape—everything must have cost an unbelievable fortune. The sheer sumptuousness of this place was simply overwhelming.

Hilda was not given much time to wonder, though. Kuja materialized behind her back only a couple of moments later.

"I hope it wasn't too bad," he offered politely, gesturing for her to step out of the circle. "Come, my lady. I will show you to your room."

"Where are we?" she asked, unable to keep amazement out of her voice.

"My palace," he answered smoothly, as they both started to walk down the hallway, "or, to be more specific, the ground-floor lobby." There was a small pause. "You didn't think I'd have you live in that _cave_, did you?"

Completely engrossed in her surroundings, Hilda might have failed to notice the familiar, self-satisfied smirk tugging at the corners of Kuja's mouth, but she certainly didn't fail to recognize the _tone_. Again, he was enjoying himself at her expense.

"No," she eventually said, even though swallowing her pride _had_ been hard. "Somehow, I could have expected this."

He smiled at these words, perhaps able to sense the underlying message—_could have, and yet I didn't—_and then gracefully brushed past her, spinning around to meet her reluctant gaze. "Well, it took me years to furnish this place, but it was all worth it, don't you think?"

Hilda didn't reply at once. She turned her head away to get a better view of a nearby statue: a crouching demon with a sword in its hand, its muscles tense, fangs bared, membranous wings slightly raised. It looked as if it was going to lunge forward any second now. "You…" she began calmly, studying the creature's mad features, "have a slightly… peculiar taste."

"Do I?" Kuja's voice sounded as carefree as ever. "Don't you like it here, then, Lady Hilda?"

If she didn't consider the fact that she wasn't very fond of her host, that he had brought her here against her will, as a prisoner… then, yes, she had to admit that it would be hard not to marvel at what he had shown her so far. It was true that she had never approved of prodigality—and building a palace in a place like this, partially below the ground, in the middle of an uninhabited desert, possibly counted as the biggest waste of money she had ever seen—but she couldn't deny the fact that her surroundings were beautiful.

"Why would you," she hesitated, unsure of how to form her question, without sounding too reproachful, or too curious, "spend years on creating such a residence so far away from the Mist Continent?" She knew it was a rude thing to do, and yet she couldn't keep herself from continuing, "Do you live alone?"

"I didn't create this place to entertain guests," Kuja explained calmly, pushing a large door open, so they could both enter a new part of the hallway, "at least not as the term is popularly understood. I already have my house in Treno. It's just that every now and then, I tire of such lifestyle and need a quiet place to think."

A quiet place to think that must have cost at least millions, if not milliards of Gil? He wasn't telling her everything, it was rather obvious. "Who on Gaia _are_ you?" she breathed despite herself.

"Depends on your point of view," he smiled in reply. "For the time being, let us just say I'm an indecently rich man."

"Yes, I can see that," she nodded stiffly, looking up at a row of lovely stained-glass windows they were passing. "How many people have you…" _killed_, she wanted to say, but decided against it, afraid of the man's reaction, "robbed to acquire such fortune?"

"No one," he laughed, completely unbothered by the sarcasm. "I just happened to be lucky at one time."

"No one can become so rich by pure coincidence."

"I'm telling you the truth, my lady."

"What was it, then?" she asked, her lips curled into a sour smile. "Did you bet all your savings on the right chocobo?"

The amused expression didn't fade from Kuja's face. "I congratulate you on your cutting wit, but no, your guess was incorrect."

"Fine." She shrugged. "Keep this secret to yourself."

"Ah, but there is no secret, Lady Hilda," he replied almost instantly, which didn't surprise her even the slightest bit. During the past few days she had learnt to know him well enough to realize that vanity and talkativeness were two of his major faults. "I shall perhaps introduce myself for the second time, then." He came to a halt at these words, and she had no other choice but to stop, raising her gaze to find familiar, undisguised mockery in his eyes.

"Oh?" She watched him bow slightly, much more carelessly than before.

"My name is King. Kuja King."

It was more than enough to reduce her to silence. _The_ King? The richest, most influential noble in Treno? The eccentric, taciturn misanthrope who—if one considered all the rumors true—hardly ever left his huge mansion?

"I am afraid I cannot believe you," she frowned almost instantly, shaking her head at the younger man. "I have never met Lord King in person, but I know for sure that he has to be at least seventy years old, and as such–"

"Seventy-eight," he murmured absently, startling her a bit.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I said that he was seventy-eight," Kuja repeated a bit louder, looking up from the marble tiles. She was surprised to see such a thoughtful expression on his face. "He will be seventy-nine this summer, if I remember correctly."

Hilda blinked at these words, not quite understanding. Basically, Kuja had just admitted that he was _not_ Count King himself. And yet he claimed he bore the man's name, even though, as far as she was concerned, the old noble had no family. At least… no family she had ever heard of.

"Are you," she tried uncertainly, even though there was really no other option, "a relative of His Lordship?"

"Yes and no," he chuckled humorlessly, the opening sentence punctuated by a rather annoyed grimace. "As far as blood is concerned, the answer is negative—no, we are not related. From the legal side of things, however, I happen to be his successor."

"Are you his adopted child?" Again, it was only a matter of logical conclusions, shocking as they seemed.

Kuja flinched at her words, as if he she had just said something very unpleasant. "You can say that, yes."

_Alright…_ Hilda took a deep breath, finally turning her head away. That explained the wealth, at least to _some_ extent, because she still found it hard to believe that a mere count could have become so rich, but it didn't clarify just _why_ would a distrustful old noble decide to share his fortune with a complete stranger. How had it happened? What about Kuja? What had he done to buy his way into Lord King's company, to gain favor with the seemingly unapproachable man?

Moreover, why on Gaia would he break the law, especially if he had so much to lose? Why would he risk everything—his fame, riches, reputation—for Cid's favorite airship? It just didn't make any sense! People from the upper class rarely went so far in their contempt for social rules. And even if they did, even if they actually stole something, or killed someone, they hardly ever boasted about their deeds, acted so carefree about the whole matter!

Kuja had just told her his surname, and—unless he was lying, which she found rather unlikely—it did not bode well for the future. It would seem that he was now playing straight with her. Did it mean that he had never really intended to release her? Or maybe–

"Lady Hilda?" His soft voice finally pulled her out of her reverie. "Are you alright?"

Maybe he thought himself above the law?

"I am perfectly fine, thank you very much," she retorted dryly, straightening herself up. "Just a little surprised, that is all."

"Come, then, let's not stop here," he nodded, raising a hand in an inviting gesture. "It's still a long way to your chamber, and I may as well tell you the whole story."

"You do not have to," she opposed. Perhaps it would be best not to learn too many details. Besides, what interest did she have it this man's private affairs?

"Ah, but it wouldn't change anything, would it?" he replied with a small shrug. "It's not any sort of a secret, I've already told you that. Say, Lady Hilda… Have you ever heard of Doctor Tot?"

The random change in topic was surprising. "Of course," she nodded without thinking. Even though the aged scholar rarely visited Lindblum, usually too busy with his studies in Alexandria, he was a rather well-known person in certain circles. He also happened to be Princess Garnet's tutor. She had met the man on more than just one occasion. "Why?"

"Seven years ago," Kuja began calmly, ignoring the startled look on Hilda's face, "when I first came to Treno, I was looking for Doctor Tot. He wasn't home, though, and it all went downhill from there. The next thing I knew, I was standing in front of the biggest mansion in the whole city, arguing with one of the most dimwitted people I have ever met."

* * *

_"No, I haven't come here to_ _see_ Master King_," Kuja repeated for perhaps the fourth time in the last couple of minutes. His patience was already hanging by a very thin thread. "I've come to see_ Doctor Tot_._"

_"Master King won't have any visitors." The tall, ruddy guard was being equally stubborn. He didn't even look up at the white-haired youth, too busy making circles in the dirt with the tip of his halberd. Kuja's gaze_ _trailed down: it was a drawing_ _of a woman, or rather a part of her. Viewed from a very… interesting angle. "And Doctor Tot doesn't live here."_

_"Yes, I know that," he hissed, exasperated, "but I was told I could find him here."_

_If it hadn't been for the curious stares of random passer-bys, he would have already grabbed the damn man by the front of his shirt and thrown him at the gate, preferably _through_ it… but _no—_the boulevard was crowded, there were all these stupid people around, and so he had to waste his time on the uncooperative moron. It did_ not _make him feel_ happy_._

_"Dunno who told you that, lad." The would-be artist shrugged, added yet another curve to his picture. Either he couldn't see the murderous glare in Kuja's eyes, or he wasn't taking it seriously._

_"His maid, if it interests you. Look… Is he inside this mansion, or not?"_

_"Mebbe," came the calm, laconic reply, partially drowned out by a six-horse carriage rushing down the street, splattering a few unfortunate strollers with mud. "Who knows? I didn't see him enter. Wasn't my turn to stand guard."_

_Oh, that was _just great_… Kuja took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. He could be perfectly patient, if only he wanted to… but why the hell should he stay patient _right now_? It was all so frustrating, really… Eighteen months on Gaia, and when he had finally found the very person he had been looking for_—_a man who was supposed to be some sort of an expert on Eidolons_—_this obstinate guard decided to stand in his way, along with a wrought-iron fence and a huge courtyard he could not cross unnoticed…_

_At times like this, he almost hated playing a normal person_—_just a seventeen-year-old boy, weaponless, dressed up as a merchant's son, down to the tiniest details, such as a blue, serrated vest and a pair of leather brogues. His long hair was perhaps the only thing that didn't match this relatively modest costume_—_he had always liked to keep it loose, if only to draw some attention, to _provoke_ people, to jibe at their hidden desires. He really enjoyed seeing their funny expressions the moment they realized that_ _they would _not _have their way with him._

_Shaking himself off his distracting thoughts, he noticed that the situation hadn't advanced even the slightest bit. "You said: 'maybe'. Can I go in and check?"_

_"Give it up, lad." The drawing was supplemented with a new, juicy detail. "I've already told you, Master King won't have any visitors."_

_Just as the guard had spoken these words, though_—_and before the boy could finally make up his mind about the violence_—_the door to the mansion opened, and two men walked out into the spacious yard._

_The first one wore a richly embroidered livery, he was obviously the main butler of the house. Kuja, still fairly inexperienced with the way of the upper class, could only cringe at the sight. He had had no idea that humans were supposed to move _like this_, with a grace of an average, mindless Genome_—_stiffly, without wasting too much energy on any unnecessary movements. Honestly, the servant looked as if he had just swallowed a stick._

_The second man was the exact opposite of his companion, and the difference didn't come only from the fact that he wasn't even human. Short and plump, he still managed to look quite dignified, without actually appearing ridiculous, even with a tiny pair of spectacles balancing precariously at the back of his beak._

_"Ah, here goes your Doctor Tot," the guard pointed out the obvious, ran his foot over the ground to erase the half-finished picture. Kuja ignored the comment, moved closer to the bars, indiscreetly pricking up his ears as both men started to walk towards the gate._

_"I am terribly sorry I couldn't be of any assistance to His Lordship," Tot spoke in quiet, hushed tones, his fingers absently playing with his golden pocket watch. "Unfortunately, such things seem to lie beyond my scope."_

_"It is all right, Doctor," the butter replied__, his voice dispassionate enough to make even Garland envious. "I am sure you have done everything in your power."_

_The older man sighed. "Still, I wish this medicine could have been more efficient…"_

_"Nevertheless, I want to thank you on my master's behalf. Please, if you ever think of any way to alleviate his suffering, remember to visit as soon as possible," by now, they had already crossed the yard; the stubborn guard was opening the gate. "Goodbye, Doctor."_

_The two men exchanged polite bows, and the shorter one was finally able to step outside, into the dirt-covered boulevard. For a moment, he simply stood there, straightening his vest, until he noticed a pair of cornflower eyes fixed intently of his face._

_"Yes…?" he asked calmly, pushing his glasses a bit higher up his beak. "Can I help you, lad?"_

_"Doctor Samuel Isaac Tot," Kuja bowed slightly, trying to keep all excitement out of his voice, yet failing miserably. "I've been looking for you."_

_"Well, it would seem that you have just found me," the older man flashed him a friendly smile. "I presume we have not met before…?"_

_"I'm Kuja, a scholar from Consenza," he recited without batting an eyelid, straightening himself up to meet the doctor's mildly curious gaze. He had never even been to Consenza, but what did it really matter? It was a tiny town in east Alexandria, definitely _too tiny_ to attract any attention, let alone raise any suspicions concerning his less than perfect accent. "I used to be an apprentice of Nicholai Toulon." Again, the lie was perfectly safe. The man had been rotting in his grave for almost two years._

_"Nicholai Toulon," Samuel Tot nodded in recognition, "quite an accomplished man. Such a pity that he had to die a premature death, don't you think?"_

_"You are right, Doctor. He didn't even manage to finish his final work." In reality, Kuja couldn't care less. The man's surname meant very little to him, it was but a key to accomplishing his goals, a convenient gateway to the world of science. Still, for appearances' sake, he would have to play the part of an inconsolable student.  
_

_"'Creatio ex Nihilo'." There was yet another nod from the scholar. "Well then, Kuja… Is there anything you wanted to talk to me about? I am afraid that I do not have much time right now."_

_"Oh?" He didn't manage to hide his displeasure. "Is that so?"_

_"I have an appointment with Lord Amman in thirty minutes," Tot gave him a quick, apologetic smile. "And his residence happens to be quite a long walk from here, so I really must be going now… Why don't you see me off to the Canal? We can talk on our way, I suppose."_

_"Actually…" he hesitated, stifling a quiet growl, "it's something important. I'd rather not discuss it here, with all this noise around. May I come to your office? Later this evening, or perhaps even tomorrow?"_

_"I understand what you mean, young man," the scholar frowned at a pair of quarrelling stallholders, "but I am afraid that it would be impossible, too. I already have plans for this evening, and tomorrow, as soon as the sun rises, I leave for Laberia."_

_"I…_ _see." Kuja barely_ _resisted the urge to raise his voice. It just wasn't fair! He had come so far to talk to this man, to finally learn something about the Eidolons, and now he was being told that he would have to wait even longer. "When will you return to Alexandria?"_

_"In four weeks, if all goes well," Doctor Tot said. "Now, please, walk me up a bit, would you?"_

_"Of course," he agreed reluctantly._

_"Thank you," the ma__n smiled in reply. "So tell me, what did you study with Nicholai Toulon?"_

_Kuja bridled slightly—_he_ was supposed to be the one asking questions here. "Astrology. Energy disturbances in etheric fields of living organisms. And some alchemy, as well." He was pretty sure Master Garland would frown at calling black magic 'alchemy'. Still, Gaian offered no other equivalent term._

_"You are a sorcerer, then?" Samuel Tot nodded in understanding._

_"Yes."_

_The next question threw him completely off guard. "A healer?"_

_"Yes," he found himself replying, much to his own surprise. _Well, at least to a certain extent…

_"Pardon my inqu__isitiveness," the Doctor was already saying, "but do you consider yourself to be a professional in your trade?"_

_In _what_ trade? Healing? Kuja supposed he wasn't wearing a very smart expression at the moment. What the hell was this man getting at? And, more importantly, how on Terra was he supposed to answer such a question?_

_"Yes," he eventually replied, smiling slightly, "you can say that."_

_Doctor Tot fell silent at these words; there was a thoughtful, worried look on his face. "I would like…" Kuja forced himself to keep quiet, still unsure of what was going on. "I would like to ask a favor of you."_

* * *

**End of Chapter Five**

* * *

Author's Notes: Aw, so mean of me, I've just left you with a tiny cliffie! I bet you can already tell what happens next, though. :P

Actually, when I first started to write this chapter, it quickly grew to the surprising length of… nine thousand words. Now, that would be too much for a single update – heh, I don't want anyone to fall asleep in the middle of Kuja's story – which is why I eventually decided to split the whole thing in two. Just don't worry, the second part should be posted quite soon. It's almost finished by now.

Dear reviewers, I'm very, _very_ happy that you liked my story so far!

**Christine**,** Vindemiatrix**,** Sors, Black Mage Dad** – thank you so much for your kind words! **Thaliel**, **sable-fahndu** – I was shocked to discover that you added this to your C2 communities, I'll try not to fail your expectations. -bows deeply- Also, many thanks to anyone who faved my fic… by some accident, no doubt. :P **RikkuAlaise**, I feel strangely… honored. :)

**Shinimegami7**, I suppose I could always insert some hints of Kuja/Zidane for you, seeing that it's one of my favorite pairings and all. :D Well, I don't _really_ think Kuja is gay, but I can easily imagine him as a bisexual… transsexual, even. :P And Lunar's story is _fantastic_, I agree. I can't wait for her to continue!

**TiA aRiEl**, I tried e-mailing you, but Hotmail kept insisting that your account didn't even exist. O.o Anyway, my nationality can be easily found in my profile. I don't feel like hiding anything from anyone. :)

**Blue Artemis** – nah, I don't hate Lich, but I admit that I somehow 'managed' to get my butt kicked by him in that shrine ('cause I was trying to play the game and watch TV at the same time. :P), so yes, I can feel your pain. ;(

**Sabrina**, I hope you'll forgive me for not replying to you e-mail sooner. I tried to finish this damnable chapter first. :) Many thanks for your patience… and for your support. -hugs—

**Bloody Vixen**, I'd love to portray our angel as more that just 'somewhat human', to show his softer, insecure side… without turning him into a whiner. :) (I _always_ end up writing angst, anyway. :P) As for the Castle – I see what you mean… but I still fail to see any major inconsistency in Kuja's words. ;)

He calls it _Takarka's_ Castle – this part's pretty obvious, Takarka happens to be the keeper of that place, the final boss. Much later, in her conversation with Zidane (yes, you remembered correctly :)), Hilda – who has no idea of Takarka's existence, thus passes as an 'ignorant human' in Kuja's eyes :) – calls is _Ipsen's_ Castle. Here are her exact words: "The gateway that connects the two worlds is sealed, but Kuja said there is a place where the seal can be broken. He said it's an old castle located in the northern area of the Forgotten Continent. An explorer left a record of his trip to this particular castle on the Forgotten Continent. If I remember correctly, he wrote that the cliffs were too steep to explore. Other than that, very little is known about the Forgotten Continent... Well, since this castle doesn't have a name, let's call it Ipsen's Castle." (Ack! So many repetitions!)

Now, basically, my theory goes as follows: Hilda is not the only person who stumbled upon the explorer's – Ipsen's – record. It's not a _secret_ document, anyway. :) People from Gaia, who have never visited the nameless castle (for why should they…?), yet know about its existence, just call it Ipsen's Castle, for convenience's sake. Ah, but what does it really matter? Still, Bloody Vixen, thank you very much for pointing that out! (…And there I was, thinking that people just scroll carelessly through my chapters, without actually reading_._)

**(…about the seventeen-year-old angel…)**

I hope you didn't find the flashback _too _bad… because there's going to be more of this, at least in the next chapter, I think. Sure, I could've given it a miss, concentrated only on the things Kuja actually _tells_ Hilda… but I just couldn't deny myself the pleasure of writing my dearest bishie as a teenage boy. :) However, if you can't stand flashbacks for some reason – or if you don't like seeing Kuja so OOC (is he, really?) – just tell me, and there will be no more torture for you. I can be pretty flexible, you know. :)


	6. The Sheer Irony of It All

Author's Notes: Great! I somehow managed to stuff parts of my never to be published "Kuja's first years on Gaia" fic into these two chapters! Now I finally have an excuse for not finishing that damnable thing. :)

So far, two people have asked about my first language, and even though this info can be found in my bio, I shall perhaps repeat myself here, just to avoid further questions – it's Polish. Please, check a random map of Europe if you're not too sure what the hell I'm talking about.

I'm such as sucker for father-son fics that I couldn't resist twisting the final King-Kuja scene into something strange. Basically, I've always liked to imagine that the rightful owner of the Auction House is still alive during the game—and that he and Kuja share an almost friendly, family-like relationship ('almost' being the keyword here). Is that really such a bad idea? To think that King might have been one of the very few humans Kuja has ever cared for, in his own, little way?

* * *

**Chapter Six**

* * *

"Doctor Tot told me everything about King's condition. Things he thought I needed to know, things I didn't even want to know. Basically, it turned out that the old count was dying, overcome by some mysterious illness, for which no cure could be found." Kuja winced slightly, tossing a couple of long, curly strands over his shoulder. "For some reason I can no longer recall, Tot felt indebted to the man and took everything that happened to him quite personally. He was upset about the whole situation, frustrated at his own powerlessness, and he wished he could do something—which is why, no matter how absurd it might have seemed at that time, he asked for my help."

Hilda nodded. It sounded like a strange turn of events, to say the least. "Are you a doctor?"

"Doctors had already tried, with pathetic results." The man grimaced. "No. I'm a sorcerer."

She frowned, yet kept all her thoughts to herself, unwilling to show her surprise. True, she would have been even more surprised to hear a positive answer to her question, but this sudden confession had also been startling. Although, she had to admit, it made perfect sense, or at least explained the mages' presence—to a certain extent. Hadn't he said he had _created_ them? What kind of sorcerer was capable of achieving something like that?

She didn't really want to listen to Kuja's story, but her curiosity was slowly replacing whatever skepticism she might have felt only a couple a moments ago. Besides, just as usual, she was under the impression that the man would keep talking even if she started to yawn, roll her eyes, or show her lack of interest in any other way. He _was_ an incorrigible egocentric, after all.

"Doctor Tot," Kuja went on, perhaps failing to notice Hilda's expression—a wry, meaningful smile hovering at the corners of her mouth, "gave me a letter of recommendation, and then exacted a promise from me. I was supposed to try, as well. Two days later, much to my own dismay, I found myself standing at the old man's bedside."

* * *

_Francis_ _Touggourt King was dying. It didn't really take a doctor to realize as much; the hints were more than obvious. The old noble lay in his bed, completely motionless, with a pair of unseeing, lusterless eyes fixed on the ornate ceiling, and a few droplets of saliva trickling down his chin. His wrinkled skin was sickeningly pale—translucent, even—with a tinge of ugly, greenish color around the lips. Most of his bones could be seen underneath. His lungs were making small, wheezing noises with each breath he took._

_Kuja sighed. Heavily. He felt like turning on his heel and leaving without a single word. This place was making him sick. He cared neither about the man's suffering nor about his life, but the sight was unpleasant, to say the least, and the intense stench of death seemed almost unbearable. He had always been sensitive to such things, it came as a part of being __an experimental Genome. _

_Unwilling to dwell on that last thought, he tried to look in a different direction. Whoever had assumed that covering the windows with thick curtains was a good idea, had obviously been wrong. The chamber was almost as dark as an underground cellar: certainly not the best way to infuse the count_—_and a potential doctor_—_with optimism._

_A dispassionate voice rang by his side, "Would you please wait here?"_

_"Of course," he replied._

_From his place by the door, he watched the butler_—_the very same man he had seen two days ago, at the mansion's gates_—_walk up to the huge bed. His efforts to stay quiet were completely nonsensical. The old noble didn't even blink at the sound of his servant's footsteps, as if, regardless of his open eyes, he was totally absent from the room, trapped in another dimension._

_Kuja ran a hand through his long hair. Once again, he was beginning to question his decision to come here. He had made a promise to Doctor Tot, a promise he was willing to keep, but he still found the whole situation annoying. He was an Angel of Death, after all, not some merciful physician who traveled round the world and healed people out of compassion. He was supposed to kill thousands, not save individuals, at least as far as Garland's wishes were concerned. H__onestly speaking, his own needs didn't include wasting his time on helpless old men, either._

_In fact, the only thing that kept him here was the sheer irony of it all._

_"Master King," the butler spoke quietly, leaning over the immobile count. "This is the young magician I have told you about. Perhaps __he __will be able to help you."_

_Magician? Before Kuja could snicker, though, the old man _moved_, nodded his head at the servant in a barely visible gesture. No words fell from his lips, but the brief exchange was enough to send the white-haired youth into a state of mild shock. The living zombie had just proven that he was indeed _alive.

_The butler straightened himself up and raised his head to meet the boy's gaze. "Please, sir, try to do your best."_

_Shaking himself off his surprise, Kuja resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Fine, I shall _try_. Now leave."_

_"I will stay by His Lordship's side," came the man's flat answer._

And watch me go from one Terran spell to another? Feh. Unlikely._ "…You're making this difficult."_

_"Do not misunderstand me, young man." The servant folded his arms across his chest. "I am responsible for His Lordship's safety."_

_"I'm not planning to do anything 'unsafe'," he scowled. "Seriously, how can you expect me to concentrate with someone breathing down my neck?"_

_"It is my duty to protect my master."_

Such loyalty... –_ Kuja turned his head away, trying to hide his snicker _– Garland would have been awfully touched, no doubt…

_"Fine," he growled in reply. "Just move on towards the wall and pretend you're not even there, okay?"_

_The butler nodded stiffly; whatever he felt like saying, he didn't actually say. Without taking his eyes off the youth, he took a couple of steps back, disappearing into the shadows. Kuja suppressed an annoyed sigh._

_He walked up to the bed and sat down next to the noble's side, reaching for one of his cold, pale hands. A pair of gray eyes moved slightly to meet his own, blue ones – and much to his surprise, Kuja found himself looking away rather quickly. The man's gaze hadn't been empty._

_He knew the expression all too well. Crushed hope. He had seen it before. In the mirror._

_…Aaah, just where had that distracting thought come from? The sooner it was done, the better!_

_Scanning the man's aura was a easy task, he instantly noticed some major abnormalities. It was as if the energy flow had been reversed. Life was leaking out of this body, much faster than it should have, instead of just staying_ within _the vessel. And the inflow of elements had been blocked, too. As if somebody had simply turned off the tap. Set the switch from 'inflate' to 'deflate'._

_Now, the only problem would be to _locate_ this switch. After ten minutes of strained search, Kuja still couldn't tell just _where_ the magical button lay. The spell_—_for he was sure the disease couldn't be of natural origin_—_was too complex, composed of so many threads that it was almost impossible to keep track of them; the strings ran in every possible direction, knotted, tangled up, some even broken… and the more Kuja struggled to solve this puzzle, the more lost he got._

_The count's unmoving gaze had become awfully unnerving by now. Leaning forward, Kuja whispered a couple of words, and the lids fell down. He had almost expected the man to look healthier in his sleep, but no, the old face was still twisted in pain, and the wheezing sounds didn't fade away._

_He straightened himself up, turning his head to the right, where he expected the butler to be. "This illness," he spoke calmly, watching the man come closer, "is not of physical, but of spiritual nature. His body," – he had purposely skipped the title – "would've been perfectly fine, if it hadn't been for some disturbances in his aura."_

_"Yes, we already know that." Even if the servant found such lack of manners appalling, he certainly didn't let it show. "However, up until now, no doctor has been able to discover the source of these 'disturbances', let alone cure His Lordship's disease."_

_"Two days," Kuja eventually said, leaning backwards in a casual, nonchalant manner, not really caring if he was crumpling the carefully arranged sheets_

_"I beg your pardon?" The butler blinked in surprise. It was perhaps his first display of emotion in the youth's company.  
_

_"Give me two days, and I'll find the source of all problems."_

_He couldn't care less about the man's life, but he _would not_ let some Gaian sorcerer get the better of him._

* * *

"Back then, I had no idea what it was. Only much, much later did I discover that it was a curse placed on him by one of his old business partners, convinced that King had cheated him out of a large sum of money, or something like that. The funny thing was, that foolish man died of age before the curse actually began to have an effect. He didn't even get to see his arch-nemesis bedridden, let alone dead…" Kuja turned his head to the right, met Hilda's wide, concerned eyes. "Feh, slapdash work." He smirked. "I guess that's what happens when amateurs try to play with magic."

She flinched, as if he had physically struck her, and then averted her gaze as quickly as possible, even though—she was certain of it—that could only confirm his suspicions.

A curse… created by an amateur… Ah, but she had been perfectly aware of what she had been doing! Surely, there had been no risk, for it was only a charm, a simple spell, one that could easily be reverted… not some deadly, malicious _curse_ Kuja had just told her about! Besides… she wasn't such a complete amateur, either. Certainly not skilled enough to pass for a professional mage, yet there _had_ been a few rather good wizards among her ancestors, and she knew she must have inherited at least _some_ of their talents. Cid was fine, temporarily stuck in the body of an oglop, but _safe_, nonetheless… and as soon as she was back home she _would_ turn him into a human being. _Nothing_ could go wrong…

_Well, things have already gone wrong_, a traitorous voice at the back of her mind whispered, _for you can't return to Lindblum any time you want, can you? No, you're trapped here in this golden cage, and unless_ _you find a way to escape, you will stay here _forever—_because Kuja certainly doesn't intend to let you go. It brings your revenge to a whole new level. Cid will have to spend his entire life in that–_

…that was too much. Hilda raised her head, forced herself to unclench her fists. Fortunately, Kuja just let the matter drop, allowed the sentence to hang between them for a couple of seconds, then went on, his tone as dispassionate as ever.

"At that time, I wasn't really interested in such details, I couldn't care less about 'who' or 'when'. The only thing I needed to know was 'how'. I guess I treated it as a challenge. It took me three days, but I finally managed to discover just how the curse worked, and then I simply destroyed it. King got better almost instantly. On the fourth day, he was already able to sit up in his bed. And he wanted to talk to me."

Hilda looked at the mosaic under her feet. It pictured a rushing chariot, with a few shattered columns and a huge, setting sun in the background. She was willing to think about everything _but_ her husband. "…Possibly about your fee."

"Yes," the man's pale lips were twisted in a mocking grimace, "but instead of getting down to business, he began with the story of his life. He was looking for someone who would take care of his money. A successor of sorts, seeing that he was already seventy-two, a childless widower, possibly impotent for the rest of his days… not to mention pretty unwilling to bequeath his entire wealth to the state, let alone to his remaining relatives. Basically, in return for saving his life, he asked me to inherit the title and his family name. With all resulting consequences."

She took a deep breath. "And then you agreed."

"No." Kuja's voice had turned cold, metallic. "I refused. In the rudest way possible, without mincing my words. I laughed in his face, called him a naive old man, told him that I wasn't going to waste my time on his stupid affairs, and that he should have perhaps found himself a different minion, an accountant. I was so frustrated with Doctor Tot's absence that I practically took out my whole anger on him. To tell you the truth, I cared neither about his reaction nor about his award. I kind of expected him to get furious, to throw me out as soon as I was finished. And the funny thing was – he didn't. He didn't even comment on my outburst. He just asked me to stay for a couple of more days."

Hilda shook her head in disbelief; this tale was getting just more and more absurd. She could hardly picture _anyone_ refusing the noble's offer. There was simply no excuse for Kuja's bluntness, such behavior escaped all human logic. What had kept him from agreeing? 'Frustration', as he had put it? Pride? Disregard for all earthly possessions? Ah, but it was ridiculous; one look at her surroundings was enough to assure her that he _did_ care about these things…

Secondly, why would Lord King tolerate such impudence coming from a boy? True, she didn't even _know_ the man, perhaps he was the pure embodiment of patience and good-manners, but still, his second invitation made no sense at all.

"I knew that Doctor Tot wouldn't be back for another three weeks," the young man went on, his lips curled into an unpleasant smile, "and so I figured I could as well accept King's _generous_ invitation. It was better than staying in an inn, anyway. For such a wonderful city, Treno sure can't be proud of its innkeepers' hospitality."

They had just reached a broad, marble stairway, spiraling upwards like a giant conch. As soon as they started to climb, Hilda moved a bit closer to the balustrade, allowed herself a quick glance at the distant ceiling, only to see it suspended at least forty meters above her head. If it hadn't been for the countless candelabra, she would have never managed to make out the details of a huge, silver-green fresco it was covered with.

"A week later," her captor was saying, "a new visitor arrived at the mansion. He introduced himself as Murcy King, the old man's nephew. According to some documents he kept waving in everyone's face, he was supposed to inherit King's fortune after his death—which he thought was about to come 'any day now'." Kuja let out a short, amused laugh. "Imagine his surprise, then, when he actually got to see his uncle's face. Oh, sure, the old man hadn't even begun to walk by then, but at least he no longer resembled a living corpse, and judging from his words, he was feeling as good as never." The sorcerer shook his head. "Unfortunately, the ambitious whelp was too dumb to take the hint and just _leave_, possibly to wait yet another twenty years. I was sure he was plotting something."

"He wanted to murder his uncle." Hilda frowned in understanding. She knew how it was done, if not from her personal experience, then at least from countess tales and gossip.

"Yes," Kuja agreed simply. "It was pretty obvious to everyone _but_ the count's servants. That what's-his-name, Murcy, probably bribed them, anyway. King's fate was sealed."

She tilted her head to the side. "And you took pity on the old man."

"No," came the flat, dispassionate reply. "It wasn't about the old man at all. I was just pissed at that little, disgusting idiot. He was acting as subtle as a marten in a henhouse, obviously convinced that he had everyone in his grasp. He just barged into the mansion, tried to throw me out, even though I was still a guest." Hilda winced at these words; crossing Kuja certainly didn't seemed like a very smart thing to do. "Besides," the sorcerer went on after a small pause, "it occurred to me that killing the old man would've been a total waste of my work."

"Oh…" She didn't even _try_ to understand. Following Kuja's train of thought seemed nearly impossible at times.

"To make a long story short," she head him speak up, in a startlingly casual voice, "I got rid of that whelp, once and for all. Next day, I asked King whether his offer was still valid. And it was."

* * *

_"Article twenty-eight: shall there any contentious issues arise within the first three months of–"_

_Kuja sank deeper into a soft, leather armchair, his head rolling to the side with a small, bored sigh. He had stopped paying attention to the lawyer's words at least fifteen minutes ago, when the man had still been halfway though article four, which basically discussed "both parties' legal capacity to claim responsibility for their own actions", or something to that effect._

_It was nothing but a stupid formality, after all. He couldn't be too sure about 'Master King', but_ he _had already read the document they were going to sign. Twice. He knew its contents by heart. Still, the old man insisted that everything happened under the law, in the notary's presence._

_Fortunately, there were only two more points left._

_"–and shall also inherit the rightful title, as well as the legal basis to–"_

_Oh, yes._ The title. _He stifled a dry laugh. Count King. Count _Kuja_ King. It sounded ridiculous even to his own years. _Especially_ to his own years._

Garland would have so loved this…

_"–you agree to these terms," the lawyer's voice once again pulled him away from his thoughts, "then please put your signature in the space provided at the bottom of every page." Kuja looked up, meeting the other man's somber gaze. "I'm afraid that you would have to sign three copies–"_

_…which made exactly twenty-seven signatures in total. Francis King was the first one to reach for the parchment. Kuja waited, more or less patiently, for the old noble to finish, then took the quill himself, started to work his way through the numerous pages. He had a feeling that both men were staring at his hands._

_"There." He finally looked up, gave the documents back to the notary, who eyed them scrupulously. "Is that all?"_

_The lawyer didn't answer at once. "…Yes. I suppose that would be all. Congratulations, Master King." He finally rose to his feet, reaching out to shake King's hand across a low table. "You are now, officially, a father." With a small, cunning smile on his lips, he turned to Kuja. "Congratulations to you as well, young man. You will be inheriting quite a fortune."_

_The boy smiled back, trying his best to appear natural, although he was certain that his smile turned out rather sour and awkward. Fortunately, before this moment could get even more embarrassing, King's hoarse voice broke the silence._

_"Yes, indeed… Thank you for your hard work, Leddar."_

_The notary bowed. "The pleasure is all mine. I shall always remain at Your Lordship's disposal."_

_And then it was finally over. A tall, noiseless_ _servant arrived to lead Leddar out of the room. As soon as the door closed behind them, Kuja fell back into his armchair, staring blankly at the two copies the lawyer had left behind. At his own signature_—_neat, Gaian letters, so simple and childishly easy to produce, especially compared to the complexity of the three Terran alphabets_—_visible at the front page of each document._

_He had a feeling that it was a big joke. Some stupid, most incredible dream he'd ever had, one that would soon be over…_

_If Garland could see this… well…_

_He wasn't even able to imagine Garland's reaction. Would there be any…? After all, the man cared very little about his Genomes, and Kuja, in spite of his individuality, his status as an Angel, was hardly ever worth any extra attention, be it positive or negative. Perhaps Garland would have simply dismissed everything with a mere shrug…?_

_"What it that_ _bad?" A deep, somewhat unsteady voice broke his train of thought. "You should perhaps see the look on your face. You seem absolutely unhappy."_

_"Do I, really?" Kuja leveled his cold gaze at the man, feeling embarrassed despite himself._

_"What's done is done. You may as well try to get used to it."_

_The casual tone was a bit infuriating. "You don't expect me to live here, do you?"_

_"I expect you to take care of my business, that is all." The count's bony fingers clenched around the armrests, knuckles instantly turning white. For a brief moment, Kuja felt like springing up from his seat, just to help the old man stand up. He resisted the urge, though. "I simply wish to spend my remaining days in peace, without worrying too much about finance or politics."_

_"You make it sound as if you were about to die in a moment," the youth grimaced, but his voice sounded nowhere near as hostile as before._

_"Ah, no." His face still twisted in pain, the old man slowly got to his feet, leaning on his mahogany walking stick. "Actually, I haven't felt so good in a very long time… All thanks to you."_

_"Don't even bother," Kuja mumbled, momentarily looking away._

_Honestly, he had no idea how to deal with this… this unexpected gratitude. He hadn't saved King's life out of compassion. Wasn't it obvious? He had acted on a whim – because he had wanted to see if he could break the curse, outsmart some Gaian sorcerer, then because he had gotten so furious at that little moron who actually dared to threaten him… – and if so, there was no point in the older man's thanks._

_Ah, but on the other hand… the way it made him feel…_

_Almost… almost as if he were… It was so easy to pretend that none of this was artificial…_

_"I do not understand your objections," he heard King speak up. "I felt that it was perhaps the only fair solution. And I haven't come to regret my decision yet."_

_Not for the first time in the previous few months, his thoughts ran to Zidane_—_damn it all, there hadn't been a day when he wouldn't be thinking about his brother. He still didn't understand why he hadn't killed the brat when he had had the chance. He had his fingers clenched around the boy's throat, for hell's sake; the little Angel had been completely defenseless, staring up his face with a pair of half-clueless, half-terrified eyes, practically _begging_ to be strangled, and yet…_

_And yet knocking the child unconscious had been the only thing he could do. It was funny, really. His whole life, he had been taught how to kill, at his Master's command, without questioning, and when he had finally had the opportunity to act of his own free will, to fulfill his own wishes, to _save _himself_,_ some silly hesitation had taken over. Instead of getting rid of his problem once and for all, he had merely pushed the brat through the portal._

_Of course, he had no idea if Zidane was still alive. That makeshift teleporter had been unstable, completely random_—_it could have thrown the boy anywhere, from the bottom of a lake to a stony desert. If he had been lucky, he might have landed in some forest, perhaps even in some inhabited area… then again, what did it change? He had been but a helpless child back then, barely capable of zipping up his suit, let alone defending himself against a hungry wolf, or surviving on the outskirts of, say, Treno, where people tended to be more dangerous than monsters._

_"How am I supposed to understand your silence?" King's voice was coming from far, far away._

_He couldn't resist the impression that fate_—_more like 'pure coincidence'; he had never believed in fate, anyway_—_had been kind to the brat, felt nearly _convinced_ that Zidane was alive, stranded somewhere on this planet. And he couldn't help but wonder… had the boy found his home here, on Gaia? Managed to come to terms with his heritage? Or had he simply forgotten, dismissed his previous life as some strange, unsettling dream? Found some semblance of normality?_

_He… he didn't deserve any of that. Why the hell should Zidane get a chance to live like this, like… a human being, whereas _he_…_

_"Kuja?" This time, there was unmistakable worry in the other man's voice._

_"You don't know me at all." The words were on his lips before he could actually stop himself. "How can you even _trust_ me?"_

_Too late, he had already said too much, hadn't remembered to keep the emotions out of his voice, allowed the mask to slip away, if only for a brief moment. Looking up, he saw the older man_ _smile __in a rather unpleasant way. "Well, I can't."_

_"Then why…?"_

_"Call it an old man's fancy."_

_"Seriously–" he began, but King didn't even let him finish._

_"Maybe I've really gone senile over the past few months. Maybe I just wanted to take all these vultures down a peg or two. Offering my money to a complete stranger, heh… That'll certainly give them something to talk about. Of course, people will never get to know the details. Some things shall stay within these walls, I suppose we have already agreed to this."_

_"You…" Suddenly, Kuja found himself at a loss, struggling for words. "I didn't save your life to… Not because… You see, I'm not…"_

_"Not too fond of me. I can accept that. However, I wish you would be more polite at times."_

_"Ah…" He leant forward in his seat, stiff, uneasy, exasperated. "No, what I meant to say is that… that I am not…"_

_Human. Oh, for hell's sake, just get this over with…_

_"Not a good bookkeeper," he finally gave up, raising his head to meet the man's calm, unmoving gaze._

Damn_, he thought, _why do I even bother? It's not like I owe him anything! _He_ wanted this, I practically pulled him out of his grave, so let him repay his debt! He can't expect me to be _grateful_, can he? After all, I could've done perfectly well without his money… without his… Why is he acting like this? As if he actually… as if…

_"It's okay." The old man sounded a bit perplexed. "Don't worry about it too much. Hire a few accountants, a legal adviser, whoever you like. I just want you to–"_

_"And you should also be aware," Kuja interrupted sharply, afraid that it was now or never, for if he didn't say certain things today, the chance would be lost, "that I'm keeping a lot of things from you."_

_His whole life was based on lies, oblique statements, false assurances of loyalty, so why was it so hard to lie now? Why did he insist on being honest?_

_Francis King fell silent for a long while. "I have lived in this word for seventy-two years, my boy," he finally said, no trace of anger in his calm voice. "And I am not as foolish as you think. Yes, I have a feeling that you are keeping many things from me, but I do not mind."_

_"You…"_

_"Are naive, is that what you wanted to say? No, Kuja. I may not be able to see what is going on inside your head, but one thing is certain. If your intentions towards me had been insincere, we wouldn't be having this conversation. Whatever you were trying to say just a moment ago, was enough to make your lips tremble. Obviously, even in spite of this," King gestured at the document on the table, "we are still strangers. It is hard to be honest with a stranger. I don't expect you to tell me your secrets."_

_Kuja sank deeper into his armchair. Yes, coming to think of it, his lips were definitely trembling. Right now._

_It just… made no sense at all._

_And he was already beginning to regret his sincerity, this sudden outburst of emotions, this weakness. There was no need to complicate things too much. __Strangers, that was all they were. And strangers they should remain._

_"As promised," he said coldly, finally standing up, "I will take care of your fortune, to the best of my abilities. Just don't expect me to act like your son, all of a sudden." Fourteen steps, and he was already by the door, reaching for the handle. "Because I won't. Not ever."_

* * *

"You think I made it all up, don't you?" Kuja's low chuckle eventually broke the silence, which had fallen after his final words. "The whole story sounds a bit far-fetched, doesn't it? Like an abstract from a cheap conversation piece, or something equally absurd."

"If you put it this way…"

"You know, Lady Hilda…" She stirred, surprised with the subtle traces of anger she could hear in his previously dispassionate voice. "There are many interesting rumors circulating around Treno. Some people insist that the tale I've just shared with you is nothing but a convenient story told to the public, whereas the real Lord King is already dead, murdered by a vagabond."

"I didn't say _that_."

"Yet such thoughts have most definitely crossed your mind. What's the difference?" he replied coldly. "Well, let's leave it at that. This would be your room, my lady."

Hilda could only catch a glimpse of an ornate, intricately carved handle before he pushed the door open, instantly taking a step to the side, in a wordless invitation to enter. Nodding her thanks—an empty gesture between them, nothing but a game of appearances—she slowly walked into her new prison.

It was a luxury apartment, to say the least, with all necessary furniture and a royal, four-poster bed, but the first thing she noticed was actually a window: a _real_ one, rather large, made of thin, perfectly translucent glass, framed by a pair of lovely, muslin curtains… and with no bars. It certainly _was_ a surprising sight, especially since she had half-expected to end up… well, if not in a dungeon of sorts, then at least in some claustrophobic basement. Turning around, she threw her captor a questioning glance. Surely, he was smart enough to know that it just _wouldn't_ be wise to keep a prisoner in a room like this…?

"It's no use, Lady Hilda," the younger man said calmly, walking up to the nearest candlestick. In spite of the early hour, there wasn't too much sunlight in the chamber, and almost everything was bathed in shadow. "You won't be able to escape this way." Several tiny flames flickered to life at a mere snap of his fingers—Hilda's eyes widened in surprise, yet she wisely chose to remain silent. "Go ahead, take a look outside."

Of course, he had seen through her intentions in a matter of seconds—not that it really surprised, or bothered her in any way. They were both adults, after all, perfectly aware of where they stood. Pretending would be useless, and so, swallowing her pride, she slowly pushed the curtains aside, reaching for a small, wooden knob.

Well, at least now it seemed clear why there was so little light in the chamber. The window didn't overlook an open desert, just a deep, narrow canyon, walls steep, smooth, no more than two hundred meters apart. Hilda risked a careful glance down, and what she saw was enough to make her head spin. Even a professional acrobat would think twice before trying to use this escape route. In her case, it would be pure suicide.

"It's really up to you," Kuja's dispassionate voice rang somewhere behind her back. "However, I'd suggest that you stay indoors."

Mockery or not, it was certainly a very good suggestion. No matter how desperate she felt, she knew she would have to find a different way. Turning around, she saw the man smile in his usual, charming manner—head tilted to the side, a few white curls falling into his eyes—and she couldn't resist the impression that he was somehow capable of reading her thoughts.

"Well…" he traced a wide arch in the air, "the palace is all yours, my lady, at least for now. Of course, you may leave your room any time you want, just try not to get lost… for that would be quite problematic, not only for you. This place is rather big."

"How courteous of you," she replied dryly, even though, in reality, she felt more than just a bit relieved.

"I shall perhaps warn you," he returned the nod, "that you won't be able to active any of the teleports without my assistance. Besides, you are not allowed to enter the top floor. Mainly for your own safety."

_Let me guess_, Hilda thought sourly, not really fond of the bluntness, let alone of the man's commanding tone, _more monsters? Or his private chambers?_

"Why is that?" she asked. "What can be found on the top floor? An _exit_?"

"No." This time, he was deadly serious, almost to the point of sounding concerned. "Not an exist, but a special defense mechanism. It's supposed to ignore your presence in the palace, however, just like every other device, it's not hundred percent reliable. I don't want it to attack you in the least expected moment. You wouldn't be able to survive that, I'm afraid."

He wasn't lying, was he? "I… understand."

"I'm glad about that." He made no attempt to smile. "Well then, my lady. A puppet will bring all your belongings here in a matter of moments. Try making yourself at home. I shall leave you for now."

"Wait," she cried out. "You… you were right, this place is huge. Where will I be able to find you?"

"No need to worry, Lady Hilda." Already in the doorway, he bowed once again, not a trace of mockery in his calm eyes. "I will be the one to find you, not the other way around."

* * *

**End of Chapter Six**

* * *

Author's Notes: Wow, it took them _only two chapters_ to reach Hilda's room! -snickers- Seriously, though, this story progresses _so slowly_… At this rate, I'll never get to write the best parts… such as a very naked Kuja in Hilda's arms… -eyes sparkle- …Oh? What? I must've been daydreaming again. Somebody pinch me. Hard.

(And you think I'm joking… Honestly, you should know better! Just wait for a couple of more chapters. A good Kuja fic can't do without _fanservice_, after all! -insert maniacal laughter here-)

Dear Readers, many thanks for taking the time to leave an opinion, and – in some cases :) – for answering my lordship/countship question! It was really important! If it hadn't been for you, I would be still running in circles!

**Sors**, your reviews are so nice, I melt every time I look at them. :) Please, keep reading! And as for Hilda and the library… well, you shall see (I already have that part written :P) Just remember that – in my head – I keep comparing Terran to Japanese. :) A bit problematic for Hilda, ne? Three alphabets and all… -laughs-

**Black Mage Dad**, praise coming from you means _a lot_ to mebecause I liked "Return…" so much, and I know that you are a talented author. I only wish you would write a new Kuja fic!

**Steeple333**, you reviewed every single chapter of this story, and it makes me feel awfully grateful. I'm happy to know that you're still reading!

**Sable**, you're the kind of reviewer a fic-writer can only dream about. :) Once again, thanks for your wonderful e-mail. I suppose we'll somehow stay in touch from now on, 'cause I still need to discuss a few things with you (…concerning the C2 community, of course. :))

It took me a couple of sleepless nights to finish this so soon, but it'll only take you a minute to review. Just think about it, please. :)


	7. The Red Moon of Gaia

**Sable-Fahndu** – many, many thanks for your help, for taking the time and effort to beta-read this chapter! I can't even find the proper words to say how important this was for me! -hugs tightly-

Oh, and while we're at it – dear readers, I want to point out that Sable has started to write her own Kuja/Hilda fic, so please, check it out (leaving a review in the process)! Plus, there's also her C2 – you can find some excellent Kuja stories there. Go ahead and take a look, I promise it won't hurt. :P

* * *

Author's Notes: Sorry if my warning comes a bit too late, but I should perhaps tell you that I always end up writing adult stuff, angst and modern/sci-fi elements into my stories. :) I can only hope that you'll somehow forgive me for what I did with the location of Terra (I vaguely sense some _Grandia II_ influence here), the implied pairing, Hilda's self-composure and Kuja's badass attitude. (No longer so tough, are you, my canaries? -chuckles-)

Don't worry, though; everything will eventually be back to normal. :) Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter Seven**

* * *

She knew that Kuja was still in the palace. A week ago, on the day of their arrival, he had told her that he wouldn't be leaving any time soon, and she saw no reason not to trust his words. Still, their shared meals had come to an end, and she had yet to meet him in one of the hallways. It seemed that he had vanished into thin air, leaving her alone among all these unsettling statues, burning candles, marble floors and the mute mages.

At first, Hilda had been relived. She no longer had to play the man's games, mind her every single gesture, listen to his confidences and scholarly disquisitions. According to her unspoken wish, she had been left on her own, free to do as she pleased, to 'make herself at home'. She could stroll about the palace, unbothered, absently examining the multiple works of art, at the same time searching for a convenient escape route.

A week had passed, and she had found none – at least none that would allow her to leave safely, without breaking her neck in the process. There were no windows on the lower floors, and those from the upper ones were situated too high above the ground. Besides, even doing something radical, like knotting a few curtains and sliding down the impromptu rope, for example, would really get her nowhere. She would end up at the bottom of the gorge, armed with nothing but her dagger, lost and unsure as of where to go next, possibly bound to run into some 'antlion' sooner or later. The desert was not uninhabited, she knew. By day, when the temperature reached forty, forty-five degrees, everything looked nice and quiet, at least from her own window… but sometimes, just sometimes, she could hear the dull rumble of falling rocks. And there were also these queer shadows, bumps moving across the sand, which instantly made her think of giant serpents, patrolling the canyon in search for a potential prey.

Actually, the only safe way to the airship led through one of the teleporters, which were no longer operable. They wouldn't even light up as she walked past. She hadn't seen any of the mages use them, either. They were as good as dead, completely useless, just another bizarre ornament in this huge place. And even if she managed to activate any of them by chance, what next? The cave was swarming with monsters, wasn't it?

Of course, the last remaining alternative would be to check the top floor, but she had the impression that Kuja hadn't lied to her about the deadly defense mechanism. True, he usually kept toying with her in every possible way, but she had long ago realized that he could be also perfectly serious at times-he would straighten himself up, stop smiling and cut the formalities, such as this customary, suspiciously mocking 'my lady'-just as he had acted that afternoon, seven days ago.

In other words, her escape would verge on the miraculous. Any attempts seemed useless… Still, she kept searching, climbed the marble stairways, checked all dark corridors, entered most unlocked rooms, never missed a chance to open a conveniently situated window. Unconsciously…

…unconsciously, she was looking for Kuja.

His presence was tiresome, yes, but even his chatter seemed better than the silence of her own chamber, or the mages' blank stares. She was beginning to miss regular people of Lindblum, the hubbub of voices that quietened down only at night. It was ironical, really… Hadn't she left the city to escape all that? Why would her forced loneliness become a burden in such a short time?

The truth was, she simply couldn't feel at ease in a place like this. For all its richness and marvelous beauty, the palace was redolent of coldness, oddly depressing in spite of the many colorful windows and golden frames. Even the brightest chambers appeared somewhat dark and gloomy, and she had yet to find a truly happy face on one of the paintings – as if the artists had been reluctant to portray any outward traces of joy. All she could see were solemn angels and demons, along with half-ominous landscapes and still lifes.

Perhaps, if she had been a guest, not a prisoner, she would have learned to appreciate things more. In a situation like this, however, she could only give in to her growing melancholy… which was soon replaced by utter, absolute confusion.

On the eight day of her stay, after about two hours of aimless wandering, she discovered a library. And there was much more to it than she would have ever thought possible.

* * *

The library was a huge room filled with dozens of bookshelves – tall and impressive, they formed a peculiar labyrinth in the shape of an eight-pointed star, though their arrangement appeared rather chaotic at first glance. Hilda carefully closed the door behind her, sliding her gaze over the countless volumes. It took her quite a few moments to reach the heart of the maze: a circular, empty space surrounded by the furniture. Turning her head to the left, she noticed a broad desk by one of the walls, complete with a single, padded chair. A few books lay there, scattered, as if someone had been reading them quite recently. Hilda stopped several feet away, looked round the whole chamber, and yet she caught no glimpse of Kuja. Perhaps he was somewhere among the bookshelves, but she didn't really feel like playing hide-and-seek with him.

There was nothing wrong with little curiosity – he had said that the place was _all hers_, hadn't he…? Finally overcoming her hesitation, she walked up to the table, took one of the volumes into her hands, absently imagining what the contents might be.

She had expected anything but this: the thin, leather-bound, rather ordinarily-looking book was filled with rows of neatly organized squares and curves, completely illegible from her point of view. Obviously enough, she had never seen such writing before. It didn't even resemble Burmecian characters; the signs were far too complex, almost to the point of imitating a series of miniature paintings. Frowning, Hilda put the volume down, reached for another one. Again, the very same 'alphabet' greeted her eyes.

* * *

Kuja sighed, and then drew back into the shadow, towards a nearby bookshelf, unwilling to reveal his presence just now. It had turned out, after all, that this quiet, barely audible rustle hadn't been only a product of his imagination—_she_ was there, rummaging through his possessions with as much interest, hesitation and curiosity as a little girl at a fireworks stall. The parallel almost made him laugh. Lady Hilda was nothing like a child, he reminded himself; was fourteen years his senior, calm and dignified, playing the part of a noblewoman considerably well most of the time. A bit naive, perhaps, but certainly no fool. Sooner or later, she was bound to confront him about the books and the language. Not that it really mattered. He knew he could tell her everything from elaborate lies to shocking truths, and still get away with it. There was nothing to fear. His plans were safe.

If she had raised her head, turned a bit to the right, she would have easily seen him, leaning against the bookshelf, an amused smile tugging at the corners of his lips—but, of course, she was too preoccupied with her 'reading' to pay attention to her surroundings. He watched her flip through one book after another, and even though he was quite unable to make out the expression on her face, the growing consternation was almost tangible. She was perhaps beginning to question her supposedly excellent education right now. Along with her captor's identity.

The heavy, silver-fitted boots didn't even clank against the marble floor as Kuja slowly made his way towards the absorbed woman. She was being careless, he mused, especially in a place like this, regardless of his earlier promises. To drop one's guard so completely… To him, it was unthinkable. Then again, she was only a lady, brought up in the safety of an average manor house. No wonder she lacked a few basic, substantial habits.

Stopping a bit to the right, no farther than ten feet away, he cleared his throat. Rather loudly. Hilda started at the sound, almost to the point of gasping, letting the book drop. _Almost_… Once again, Kuja had to remember how brave and self-confident she actually was. _Just like a lioness_, he thought, fighting off the urge to smirk—yes, the nickname from a few days ago seemed all too fitting.

When the woman turned around, her movements as dignified as ever, there was no fear in her gaze, only some mild curiosity. "I was wondering whether I would find you here."

"Are you, by any chance, saying that you were looking for me, my lady?" Cocking his head to the side, he gave her one of his most innocent smiles. Technically, now that his position among the aristocracy of Treno was no longer secret, she was supposed to address him as 'my lord' in return, and they both knew it. Hilda purposely refused to acknowledge the fact, though; she kept her old, slightly disrespectful manner of speaking. Kuja didn't even bother with pressing her. That would be pointless, considering both the woman's character and the circumstances under which they had met. The whole 'countship thing' was nothing but a pretense, anyway, something completely useless in a situation like this.

"Not necessarily." Hilda's gaze pointedly slid over the table. "I was merely taking a look around the library."

"These things will be of no use to you, I'm afraid." With a small shake of his head, he swiftly crossed the remaining distance between himself and the lady. "Now, if you're bored and looking for something to read… Downstairs, you can find a second library, with books in Gaian languages."

"In _Gaian_ languages?" She faltered, unable to conceal her surprise.

"That's right." His gaze trailed down to the volume she held in her hands. Squinting his eyes, he was finally able to recognize the author's name, printed across the cover in tiny green letters. _Shirawa_,a famous, twentieth century writer from Nagoa. He had died the day a hydrogen bomb had been dropped on the city. Seven hundred years ago, at the very beginning of the war.

"What do you mean?" Hilda had finally regained her composure. "What about _this_ library? What are these books?"

"These?" He smiled. "Mostly essays, reports, manuals, historical novels, poems and romantic plays… that kind of stuff, if you pardon my colloquial way of speaking."

As usual, she didn't find his mockery too amusing; her voice was low, swollen with irritation. "You know perfectly well that I was referring to something entirely else."

He had never been very fond of Shirawa, but the volume Hilda was holding was perhaps the only existing copy of his works, and she kept clutching it as if it were a weapon. "Please, _my lady_," he said calmly, stressing the title in his usual manner, "why don't you put the _Miracles _down? These pages are rather delicate."

No wonder, really, considering how old the paper was. At times like this, Kuja felt almost sorry for bringing the books to Gaia, where some of them would literary crumble to dust before his very eyes. On Terra, the volumes that had survived the nuclear cataclysm were safe—the atmosphere was so static that things hardly ever aged anymore—but here, in this world, the flow of time was merciless and inevitable.

"_Miracles_?" The woman suspiciously eyed the cover, running her fingers over the green characters. Kuja knew what was coming next. "Is this the title?"

"Yes," he nodded, "…although, right now, you're looking at the author's name."

"How can you–" Hilda stirred; he could almost sense her frustration rising. "…And where does this author come from, if I may ask?"

_The province of Satsu, south Amidawa,_ he wanted to reply—with a customary smirk and a bow to match—yet suddenly decided not to push this silliness any further. "Not 'does', but 'did'. The man's been dead for centuries, and the place of his birth no longer exists. It… used to be a five-million city in a country the size of Lindblum." _And a population the size of the entire Mist Continent_, he recalled, _all gone over a span of four months_. "On Terra."

Why the hell was he telling her all this? Wouldn't it be so much more convenient to let the whole matter drop? Spare himself the trouble? Right now, for example? Just turn on his heel and leave her here, with all her questions unanswered?

"Terra…" The word fell from her lips with a small sigh. She wasn't foolish, he knew; she must have remembered it from their previous conversations. "It's not the first time you mention this… place."

"Is it?" He raised an eyebrow at her, careful to keep the tone sarcastic, even though, in reality, he was merely trying to buy some time to make up his mind. "I'm delighted to hear you're such a keen listener, my lady."

"Stop mocking me." Her reply was stern. She must have already got over the shock of their very first meeting, if she felt comfortable enough to use _that_ kind of voice with him. "I believe you do owe me an explanation. I do not consider myself ignorant, and yet I admit that I have never heard of this Terra of which you sometimes speak." She weighted the precious book in her hands, still refusing to put it back onto the table. "What is the meaning of this?"

Kuja raised a hand to his face and rubbed an itching eyebrow with one of his knuckles, managing to look tired and hesitant despite himself. There was no risk, of course, but the entire situation seemed somewhat surreal. Nobody had asked him such a question before… nobody had ever felt the _need_ to ask, since he was a master of keeping up the appearances. So far, with eight years spent almost solely on Gaia, he hadn't told _anyone_ about 'the other world' he came from. Not even Francis knew, and Francis was aware of most of his private affairs, much more than either of them was willing to admit; including such things as the extent of Kuja's involvement—not always legal, pretty and official—in the Kingdom's politics. At times, he seriously considered telling the man the truth, or at least a part of it, but in the end they had never gone past the 'scholar from nowhere' facade.

Then there was Beatrix, of course. She knew about his tail, much in the same manner he knew about the small rose tattooed on the inner side of her left thigh… It was just there, sweet and alluring, and he had never openly questioned its origin. She had never tried to question his obviously non-human background, either. It would seem that mutual ignorance suited them both… Besides, their relationship hadn't been based on _talks_ and he preferred it that way. No confidences, no obligations. It was a matter of safety, as well as convenience. What was the point in trying to explain things that were far beyond an average Gaian's comprehension? Why would he want to ruin a few perfectly fine relationships with unnecessary truths?

With Hilda, it was different. He didn't like her to a degree when he would actually _care_ about her opinion, let alone sympathy. She was only his prisoner. The unintentional kidnapping had been perfect, no witnesses left. Technically, he could kill her any time he wanted, and nobody would ever know. His secrets were safe with her, for even if she returned to her husband—no sooner than the airship served its purpose—it would already be too late.

_In six months' time, the wheels will have been set to motion. I will be unstoppable._

Kuja sighed in delight; the thought brought a small, genuine smile to his lips… and suddenly, he felt like sharing his soon-to-be success with someone, anyone… Looking to the left, he saw Hilda watch him patiently with a pair of narrowed eyes, frustration and curiosity written all over her face.

As amusing as the whole situation was, he knew that there would be… consequences. Still, he was willing to risk it. Secrecy, the need to watch his every word, every impulsive gesture, was slowly beginning to weight down heavily on his shoulders… and the possibility to speak freely in a Gaian's presence seemed all too temping.

"Come, Lady Hilda," he said smoothly, meeting the woman's unwavering gaze. "I will show you."

She nodded and put the book down, following almost instantly when he turned around and started to walk farther into the library. Come to think of it, she probably expected him to produce some atlas, show her a map, or a few pictures of Terra. Well, technically, he _could_ do just that – they were surrounded by dozens of historical books, after all, and finding an illustrated one would only take him a few moments. Still, a mere drawing, he suspected, would not solve a thing, so instead of searching through the shelves, he led the woman to the south-west corner of the chamber, up a couple of stairs and to the mezzanine. They eventually came to a halt next to a stained-glass window.

Now, if he remembered correctly, this particular window was supposed to open. Soon enough, a pair of hidden hinges gave in to his fingers, and the colorful panes slid aside, revealing a small part of the startlingly clear sky. Hot air rushed inside, along with tiny grains of sand, most probably blown off a rock protrusion above the library.

Kuja took a step back, shielding his eyes against the wind and the brightness of a desert afternoon. This chamber was one of the highest situated places in the whole palace, unlike most other rooms, it didn't lie in the canyon's shadow. Still, even the dazzling, magnificent sun could not outshine the two large shapes hanging in the sky – the twin moons of Gaia, one blue, the other crimson.

"This," Kuja pointed at the bigger orb, "is Terra."

_Or rather what was left of it_, his mind supplied. _Which is not much._

Many, many years ago, when he had still been a very naive, very misled boy, barely tall enough to reach Garland's waist, he had used to like that place. Everything had been an endless source of fascination, from the dark, unmoving pond in Bran Bal to the distant, blue peaks that could be seen from the outskirts of the village. These days were long gone, though; he could barely remember what the whole excitement had been about. Terra was in its death throes, slipping out of the wheel of time, slowly changing into a sad monument of its former glory.

The silence prolonged. Somewhere behind his back, Hilda was probably still trying to figure out whether her host was being infuriatingly sarcastic, or just plain crazy. Turning away from the window, Kuja absently slid his gaze over her face—_ah, that would be a mixture of both_—then took a couple of steps to the left. The lioness kept staring, visibly torn between disbelief and anger.

"Don't be ridiculous," she finally managed.

"I take it that you don't believe me, then?"

"And how am I _supposed_ to believe you?" she nearly snapped at him. If anything, her mood swings were fun to watch. "It is only a moon, the Red Moon of Gaia."

"From your point of view, perhaps," he answered calmly, staring up at the pale, unmoving orb. "I assure you that it's a planet."

In reply, she only threw him a long, meaningful look that clearly questioned his sanity. Kuja suppressed a low, amused laugh, but he didn't manage to keep himself from smirking, and it made his next statement sound nearly hypocritical. "I'm not trying to sell you a good joke, my lady."

"Then why would you say such a thing? The astronomers–"

"Ah!" he interrupted in the middle of her sentence, even if wasn't exactly a very polite thing to do. "And haven't these astronomers constantly wondered how it is possible that this 'moon' _always_ stays in the same place? That its trajectory never changes? Against the basic laws of physics, might I add…? Well, I'd say that they have no idea what they are talking about, and that each of their theories isn't worth a straw."

His words clearly got her thinking. He could see hesitation in her eyes, still mixed with a great deal of skepticism. The facts spoke for themselves, though – the 'Red Moon' had been escaping all human logic for centuries, ever since it had miraculously appeared in the sky one day, which was yet another unsolvable mystery in itself.

"Fine." Hilda drew a deep breath. "And even if it were a _planet_, as you claim… even it were… no, _had been_ inhabited… then how would you explain all these books _here_?" Kuja smiled at her; she was catching up rather quickly. "It is impossible to travel that far. No ship would be able to cross such a distance."

"No, of course not, at least not in a regular manner," he agreed calmly. Even the _Invincible_, Garland's most fabulous achievement—from the old man's point of view, anyway—was incapable of breaking the gravity barrier, raising beyond the stratosphere. So much data had been lost during the war that space flight technology no longer existed on Terra. It had been, however, replaced with other, equally practical means: magic.

"Oh?" Hilda's eyes narrowed slightly, perhaps in irritation. "From your words, I gather that some other, 'irregular' manner exists?"

"Correct." He shrugged, resting his back against a tall bookshelf. "There's a special gateway between the two words, quite similar to the teleporters in my palace, only much more complex, not to mention powerful."

"And the journey to the _moon_… basically comes down to stepping into the right circle?"

"Well, not really." Kuja couldn't help but laugh at such reasoning. "You see, the pathway is temporarily sealed, and to unlock the gate, you would first have to visit quite a few places, starting from a very old castle in the northern area of the Forgotten Continent…" He trailed off, folding his arms across his chest. "Trust me, the whole ordeal is rather tedious."

Unfortunately, he would need to take care of it quite soon. Talk to the three remaining Guardians, convince them to cooperate in spite of the circumstances… This part was perhaps going to be simple: Kraken seemed not too bright and easily manipulated, Tiamant indifferent to everything but himself, whereas Marilis obviously hated Garland's guts. He was more worried about the Gulug Stone, anyway. Oeilvert was a place protected by a powerful antimagical field, and even though Kuja knew that there was no need to be concerned about all the little monsters swarming inside, he couldn't be too certain about the extent of Ark's hospitality. If it came to a fight, based on physical strength alone, the demon would have the upper hand, that much was obvious.

"The Forgotten Continent?" Hilda absently shook her head. "Yet another land of legends…"

"It does exist, I assure you."

"Yes," she interrupted, "I know. It's just that… all these things you say…"

"You asked me a question, my lady," he gave her a pleasant, though entirely artificial smile, "and I'm merely trying to answer it. To make long story short, Terra can be accessed through a dimension slip of sorts, a rift that teleports people and objects across space. This gateway lies north of the Forgotten Continent's shores, above a place called the Shimmering Island, otherwise known as…"

"The Pathway of Souls," she finished for him, slightly out of breath, blue eyes narrowing in recognition. "The monks from Esto Gaza believe that it's the entrance to the afterlife."

"I'm aware of that," he laughed. "They are all wrong, of course. There's no heaven on the other side of the gate. Just a sick, dying planet, where time has stopped forever."

"And how would _you_ know? You… could it be… have you ever _been_ there?"

_For far too long than I would've wished. _He lowered his head, lips pressed together in a strained, humorless smirk. _And I don't really want to remember. But it's quite hard not to._

"Been there, yes." He kept his voice as dispassionate as possible. "It's my… birthplace," or rather the place where he had been 'created', but he was not going to tell her that, "of sorts."

"Birthplace?" The woman drew a sharp breath. "You mean… your home?"

Now it was his turn to flinch. _Home?_ How long had it been since he had last felt 'at home' on Terra? Hadn't his whole worldview shattered with his arrival to Alexandria, all these years ago?

"It would seem so." He shrugged, his tone as sarcastic as ever. "Shocked, aren't you? Why is that, Lady Hilda? If I recall correctly, some of the local scholars have always wondered if there was life in places different than Gaia. Surprisingly enough, there is. The universe happens to be much more complex than most people here tend to think, anyway."

"Why should I believe you?" Her distrustful words rang loudly across the chamber, but he could already see sparkles of doubt in her pale eyes. After all, they were both surrounded by thousands of books—books he couldn't have written himself, a fact Hilda was perfectly aware of. "It sounds a bit too unlikely, would you not admit?"

"I'm not going to admit anything. Neither am I going to try to convince you. Believe what you wish, my lady."

"Fine." She clenched her teeth in frustration. "Let us make at least one matter clear, then. Just _who_ are you, _really_?"

"Kuja King, a nobleman from Alexandria." He kept smirking. "I have all the necessary documents. Perfectly legal ones, may I add."

"Yet you were not born in Alexandria."

"No, of course not." He watched her with a mixture of interest and mild amusement, wondering how she would phrase her next question. Nothing could have prepared him for her boldness, though.

"Are you even human?" she asked, and for a brief moment, the world came to a halt.

(_When will you learn, child? Why won't you finally accept your place?_)

(_Master Garland, I…_)

(_You_ what? _Wanted to prove me that you are 'not like them'? That you are human? By making human mistakes?_)

"That's enough," he said coldly, straightening himself up. Hilda must have sensed the rage behind his deceptively controlled words, for she instantly took a step back, looking as if she was ready to flee the second he so much as raised a hand. In fact, he felt quite eager to strangle her, right here, right now, not because he was furious with her, but–

(_None of this is real, you only keep confusing your wishes with reality. Your soul is flawed, child. What you mistake for human emotions is nothing but somatic memory, an atavistic, unconditioned response, resulting from the remains of the genetic pattern inscribed in your cerebral cortex_–)

"I…"

"What does it _look_ like to you?"

"I… needn't have asked," she finally managed, her cheeks paler than usual.

It took him an equally long time to form a reply, to slip back into the practiced role of an almost-polite gentleman. "It's alright." From his point of view, it definitely wasn't alright, but he couldn't think of anything better to say, unless he felt like dealing with a hysterical woman. "Oh, and to forestall your next question, should you have enough audacity to ask it—I have my reasons to be here. On Gaia."

She nodded slowly, with a great deal of hesitation. The silence that fell between them was heavy, filled with unspoken comments and many hidden subtexts; strangely enough, it was beginning to get on _his_ nerves as well. Turning his head away, for the woman was no longer looking at him, he noticed how tiny grains of sand kept falling through the open window, pilling up in a corner between the wall and the nearest bookshelf. One of the puppets would have to clean this mess later, he decided absently, taking a few steps to the right, pushing the panes back into their place, cutting off the flow of the sand along with the flow of sunshine.

"Now, if you don't mind…" Hilda looked up, met his cold gaze. "I prefer working alone."

"Of course," she replied in a dry, deceptively expressionless tone; it seemed that she was equally determined to end this awkward conversation. She probably needed some time alone to sort everything out, or at least _try_. "Before I leave, though… May I?" Once again, she surprised him by nodding at one of the shelves.

"…Go ahead," he agreed, albeit a bit reluctantly, covering his hesitation with a smirk. Not all of the books were precious and unique—much of the data they contained had already been stored in the Pandemonium's main computer, anyway—and yet it almost pained him to have somebody like her finger these covers. "Tomorrow, I shall perhaps show you to the other library. I must see to it that you don't get bored during your stay here…" He walked past the silent woman, towards the end of the entresol, turning around just in time to see her choose one random volume. "Since boredom often leads to excessive curiosity, don't you think?"

Hilda was wise enough not to comment on that.

* * *

**End of Chapter Seven**

* * *

Author's Notes: Phew, yet another chapter done! Worry not, for this wasn't the last time Kuja got the chance to talk about Terra. There _will_ be more, right after a bunch of angsty/fluffy filler. :)

Basically, it took me forever to finish this part, because I couldn't decide whether I wanted to use Hilda or Kuja's perspective. As you could see, I finally opted for the latter (as it seemed more interesting), and I can only hope it was a good choice. If you have a different opinion – and didn't like what I did to the bishie's personality – don't hesitate to tell me. :)

Oh, and if you're reading this story _only_ because of Hilda, don't worry. She's equally (if not more) important, which I shall try to prove quite soon. :)

Last but not least, I'd like to thank everyone who keeps reading my fic; particularly all these wonderful people who took the time to review since it was last updated: **ZeroSystem**, **Bloody Vixen**, **Black Mage Dad**, the nameless, anonymous reviewer :), **TiA aRiEl**, **Sors**, **Shinimegami7**, **popgoesthebaldie**, **Kuroje**, **PsychoBlair**, **Neko Kuroban**, **Rappy28**, **celeste**, **Genjy0-Sanz0**, **klepto-maniac0** and **Ruby Moon**. You're really _wonderful_, guys; you make me keep going!


	8. Vestiges of Humanity

Author's Notes: Hello and welcome to the eight chapter, in which I get to mess with the canon rather badly. Hell, I think I downright mutilate it. :D It's happy filler time, after all, an excuse for me to bombard you with my irrelevant ramblings.

You have been warned. Proceed with caution. :)

**Sable**, I'm terribly sorry I updated the fic behind your back, without waiting a bit longer for your reply, but I was quite impatient to put this awful chapter behind me. That way, I can get to some better stuff sooner. :P

* * *

**Chapter Eight**

* * *

Cid Fabool, a grown-up man stuck in a tiny body of an oglop, was seriously beginning to hate his life. Every day he had to suffer from wearing a tight shell, itching feelers, his ministers' stares, speech impediments. His lower back was killing him. And there was always _cabbage _or_ lettuce _for dinner, because an oglop's stomach wouldn't allow anything else. Well, Cid didn't have anything in particular against vegetables, but having to eat them _all the time _was a bit too much. After five weeks of such a diet, he had no idea what he was missing the most: his wife, his airship, or a rare beefsteak.

It was a rhetorical question, of course, a private joke between Artania and himself. These days, culinary delights and the lack thereof were certainly the very last thing on his mind. He spent countless hours worrying himself to death about Hilda's safety, and the remaining ones in his study, slogging away at various structural sketches of his new project, eager to rebuild the steam-engine as soon as possible. In the meantime, Lindblum was drowning in progressing inflation and corruption scandals, whereas the northern part of the country was additionally drowning in water, for several rivers had gone wild and flooded all local villages. Perfectly normal for this time of the year, one might say, but then the little upraising in the south was definitely out of ordinary – some obscure racial minority had decided to appropriate a few hills and proclaim them an independent republic of something.

All these problems, however, faded in comparison with the so-called Alexandrian issue. Queen Brahne was gathering a rather large army in the Gunitas Basin, only fifty miles away from the North Gate. She had already more than five thousand soldiers stationed there. The Burmecians were aware of that, of course, and yet they hadn't reacted so far, perhaps convinced that these maneuvers were merely some sort of field exercises.

Cid himself wasn't so convinced. He had known the Alexandrian queen for many years, practically ever since they had been both in their early twenties, and he had to admit that she had changed drastically in the past few months, not only in terms of appearance. There was something wrong with the way she acted: cold and distant, nearly contemptuous. She now struck him as greedy and ridiculously conservative, and on top of that, she kept raising odd issues, such as her ancestors' spiritual legacy, their political ambitions and actual conquests…

At first, he had put it down to her husband's death. Hadrian had surely been the center of Brahne's life, so his passing must have devastated her… but then the mourning had ended, and the queen still wasn't acting herself. There was new fire in her eyes. Cid didn't like it one bit.

He had a sinking feeling that Alexandria was indeed up to something, and that this 'something' was going to be a war… with Burmecia, of all countries. It was _ridiculous_, of course. The two nations had been at peace for more than half a century, Lady Brahne had renewed the treaty only four years ago. Besides, from Alexandria's point of view, Burmecia had really nothing to offer. It was far poorer than its neighbors, but still a certain military threat; in other words, invading those lands would be a political and economical disaster. Brahne must have realized that. She wasn't the smartest woman Cid had even known, but she couldn't have been _this_ short-sighted, could she?

Regardless of his personal opinions, a storm was brewing – a storm that needed to be stopped, right now, when he was stuck in an insect's body. It was perhaps going to become the biggest challenge of his regency. If only he could stop relying on spies, talk openly to someone from the queen's closest circle, just to confirm his suspicions. The princess, perhaps, but she was currently out of reach, guarded day and night by her mother's overprotective soldiers.

If only he could ask for Hilda's advice…

Yes, it was true that he now missed his wife more than ever, when it seemed that the entire world was pilling up his shoulders. He longed for her company and support so badly that he would sacrifice literally everything to have her by his side again, or at least know that she was safe. To hell with this oglop thing, he would've accepted an even worse punishment, just to keep her from sneaking away… but it was already too late.

She had always been incredibly patient with him, so what had caused her to leave, in the first place? He could only guess. Had it been Ashley, that cute, blonde gardener's daughter he had tried to befriend on more than just one occasion? Or perhaps Sarah, the new maid, with soft, dark hair and blue eyes? Dorothy? He hadn't slept with her, actually, but he knew he _shouldn't _have told her that she was 'the pure embodiment of grace', especially not in Hilda's presence – then again, he hadn't been aware that his wife had been listening…

So maybe he had overstepped the line, acted in an inappropriate way. Maybe. Didn't Hilda realize that all his affairs were nothing but temporarily distractions, that those women didn't even matter? He enjoyed flirting with them, yes, and perhaps sometimes got a bit carried away, but _she_ was the only one he had ever loved. And if she gave him a second chance, if she actually returned to the castle…

He would become a different man. He would swear complete, total, absolute asceticism and sexual abstinence. Damn it all, he would even stop _talking_ to other women, if this was the only way to save his marriage–

But what if she wasn't going to return? It had been five weeks and three days since he had last saw her; no wonder he was starting to grow restless. Hilda had simply taken the ship and vanished into thin air, without leaving any farewell notes or explanations. What if she was _really_ angry with him, this time? So angry that she had decided to disappear _forever_– No, he chided himself, that was ridiculous. Definitely not her style; a wicked thing to do, too cruel, too irresponsible. If she had indeed decided to leave for good, she would have at least informed him of her decision. Her disappearance was merely supposed to be a lesson that Cid would hardly ever forget.

* * *

Leaning forward to rest her elbows on the table, Hilda absently turned another page, skimmed through a new portion of beautiful yet completely indecipherable characters. Had she really deluded herself that this randomly snatched volume would help her gain a better insight into the mystery of Terra? That she would be able to prove that Kuja had been lying, that there was no sentient civilization on the Red Moon…? Well, if anything, the book served as a good argument in the man's favor, for it seemed quite obvious that such a thing couldn't have been created by anyone from the Mist Continent… and it wasn't only about the unfamiliar language.

The volume she had chosen had turned out to be a textbook, a manual of sorts, or perhaps only a lexicon. As rightfully expected, she was unable to understand a single thing she was 'reading'. She could barely guess where each sentence ended, let alone try to make sense of any of the words. Fortunately, the book contained quite a few drawings. Most of them depicted some kind of machinery; strange vessels, engines and sections that seemed different from everything she had ever seen – and she had seen a lot, considering her husband's hobby, up to the point when she thought herself relatively familiar with physics and modern technology. Still, regardless of all her precious knowledge, none of these illustrations made much sense to her, and she somehow doubted that Cid would have been much more successful in her place.

Hilda sighed heavily, drumming her fingers against something that looked suspiciously close to a mathematical equation. She knew she had only wasted her time; worse still, she had also made a fool of herself – and in front of that insufferable man, too! Asking him for one of those books had been a mistake, nothing but a proof of her naivety. He was probably having a good laugh at her expense right now… yet again. Hilda's hand twitched slightly; the mere thought of it was simply infuriating.

Try as she might, she could not deny the fact that Kuja had been right all along. The other world he had spoken of, it had to exist, beyond a shadow of a doubt. Terra was real, because she had already seen its legacy: books, black mages, the man's strange magic… it would be impossible to ignore the obvious. Nevertheless… even though she had accepted the planet's existence, it didn't make things any less confusing.

If Kuja was indeed an off-worlder, a man of Terra as he claimed to be, then what on earth was he doing here, so far away from his home, playing a role of an Alexandrian nobleman? Playing it so damn well, in fact, that he had easily managed to deceive her, and who knew how many more? He claimed he had his reasons, sure, but what reasons could that be? Were they somehow connected to what he had said back then, in the library, about there being '_no heaven on the other side of the gate_', followed by all those cryptic remarks about time and death?

She understood that there was really no need to pry into his personal affairs, _especially_ now, when he had already revealed to her much more than she had ever wanted to know. Logic told her that it was safer to refrain from most questions and generally stay out of his business. The less she knew, the less inclined he would be to kill her, which was why she had felt so uneasy when he had decided to tell her about something as private as Lord King's past. He should have kept his mouth shut and _she_ shouldn't have appeared so interested.

Kuja acted calm and composed most of the time, but Hilda knew better than to judge him by appearances. Murderers could not be trusted; his recent outburst in the library had left her shaken, seriously fearing for her life. She hoped she would never have to see him equally furious. And she had brought it upon herself, too. '_Are you even human?_' Honestly, what had possessed her to ask such a question…?

Snapping the book shut – without having bothered to mark the page – Hilda rose from her seat by the table, perhaps a bit more abruptly than intended. For a brief moment, she considered returning the volume to its shelf, but quickly decided against it. She wasn't eager to face Kuja any time soon.

What horrible mess had she got herself into? Why did it have to happen to _her_, of all people? Once again, her mind ran towards 'what-ifs' and pointless regrets. What if she hadn't left Lindblum? What if she had decided to talk things over, instead of just running away? Would it have been any different? Or was it fate that had brought her here, into a killer's hands?

_It's not as if I had a choice_, she thought, walking up to a tall mirror installed in one of walls. 'Talking things over' had never worked too well with Cid; neither desperate pleas nor cold threats seemed to have any lasting effect on her husband. He would always promise to mend his ways, act like a saint for a month or two, then promptly return to his old habits. They had been through similar scenarios many times before. No wonder she had eventually snapped. Too bad the gods had decided to punish her for it.

Battling her unsettling thoughts away, Hilda stopped in front of the mirror. She had only intended to tidy her hair a bit, but something about her own reflection made her pause. Perhaps it was this strange, exhausted look in her eyes; a look she had never been so accustomed to before her kidnapping.

Her unsettling thoughts returned in full force.

Hilda raised a hand to remove a loose hairpin and at the same time slid her critical gaze over the rest of her body, stopping at all the important curves and angles. False modesty aside, she had to admit she was pretty; beautiful, even, with her pale complexion, smooth features and a figure that could have easily belonged to a twenty-year-old, in spite of her actual age. At thirty-eight, she could still fit into an outrageously tight corset, wear low-cut dresses and openwork stockings, though she usually chose less revealing clothing for herself. She knew that many younger girls actually envied her appearance, a classic combination of blue eyes and blonde hair, which happened to fascinate most men so much.

Obviously, it hadn't been enough for Cid.

He had told her countless times that he had loved her, and she had never felt the need to doubt his words. But why, for Gaia's sake, did he insist on courting all these women? Why would he overstep the boundaries of their mutual trust? Didn't he see how much it pained her, having to watch him enjoy himself at the cost of her feelings?

She clasped her hands above her stomach as a shiver ran through her body. Was she simply not beautiful, not smart, not kind enough? Or was it only because of _this_?

Because she could not--would never bear any children?

Biting her lower lip so hard that it actually hurt, Hilda turned away from the mirror, leaning against the silver surface. She had been blessed with a child once, but the little baby had never lived long enough to be born. There had been… complications, and the pregnancy ended in a terrible miscarriage, barely five weeks after it had started, nearly taking the mother's life with it. The resulting diagnosis had been painfully clear: another attempt at parenthood was entirely out of question.

_Such things do happen_, doctors had said. _It's not your fault_, Cid had assured. And Hilda had believed them, partially driven by reason, and partially by fear. She had lived through the whole ordeal, pulled herself together, both physically and mentally. It had taken her a couple of years to come to terms with her loss, but as usual, time had proved to be the best remedy. The flaring pain had eventually faded to a dull, occasional ache.

Back then, when she had been overcome by her own grief, she had paid little attention to Cid's feelings, but lately she was beginning to wonder if that incident had perhaps shaken him deeper than she had initially thought. From a political point of view, her affliction didn't really matter. Lindblum was the most progressive country in the world; the rule belonged to the most competent people, not to a specific dynasty. A new regent was usually appointed by the previous one, but he didn't have to be his direct descendant.

Cid wasn't only a regent, though, interested in nothing but the political stability of his homeland. He was, above all, a grown-up man of forty-three, who no longer viewed life through a thick haze of unalloyed, youthful optimism. He had his own plans and expectations, and he certainly wasn't getting any younger with each passing year.

They rarely spoke of such touchy issues, but Hilda suspected that her husband wanted a child more than she ever did.

* * *

The chair wobbled precariously as its two front legs rose high up into the air. Kuja caught his balance in a split of a second, placing one foot on the table, shifting himself into a more comfortable position. With his gaze still fixed on the decorative ceiling, he kept leaning backwards, long strands of his hair slithering down his spine like a myriad of thin, silvery serpents. There was no point in denying it now: he had already wasted a good part of today's morning, unsuccessfully trying to divide his time between planning his -_Brahne's_- campaign in Burmecia, and a particularly well written book of nineteenth-century Terran poetry, which he had discovered in the library only a day ago.

Both of these things were rather interesting in his opinion, and yet he had found himself temporarily unable to concentrate on either. All because of that stupid, provocative question…

The chair fell back into place with a loud crack.

'_Are you even human?_'– she had asked him, without skipping a beat, a subject as natural as any other. Gaia was filled with many bizarre creatures, after all, and humans, though obviously the most influential, made up only a small fraction of the planet's population, less than thirty-five percent of its sentient inhabitants. With the universal tolerance edict established centuries ago, there was absolutely nothing wrong with you being something else than a pure-blooded human on Gaia. From Hilda's point of view, of course.

From his point of view, however…

He slammed his right hand against the desk, clenching it into a fist, obviously not caring about his newly bought, expensive map of Burmecia, which he was scrunching up between his fingers.

'_What does it look like to you?_' – he had snapped back at the woman, perfectly aware of what her answer would be, perfectly unsurprised with the guilty realization he had seen in her eyes. Again, viewed from her perspective, everything appeared so wonderfully simple: he looked human enough, so he must have been one, end of story, forget I even asked. Of course, she had no idea. Damn it all, he wasn't even supposed to get so furious at her. But he _was_ furious – at her and at everyone, everything else. _Garland_, in particular.

Kuja slowly unclenched his fist, forced himself to take a second look at the crumpled Burmecia right under his nose – but his mind was still far from the North Gate and any roads that led deeper into the rats' territory.

Physically, he was _almost_ human, there could be little doubt about that. Sure, some things just didn't add up, like his tail or the feathers in his hair, but the rest of his outward appearance seemed perfectly okay.

He bled when he cut his finger. His stomach would sometimes hurt from eating too much. Alcohol was nice, but excessive drinking often led to terrible hangovers. He dreamt at night, got headaches from working too much, as well as cramps from sleeping in an uncomfortable position. He would writhe in pleasure under a woman's touch, and then sigh in content after the whole business was over.

Almost human. Almost, and yet…

He had been _built_ this way. Particle after particle, shaped into everything he was now, from the silver feathers in his hair to the very shape of his toes. Nothing had been left to chance, Garland had eventually told him that much: a fact Kuja was vaguely proud of, though honestly speaking, it was cold comfort knowing that the old bastard must have spent at least four months in the lab, trying to twist the standard genetic code to fit his vision. Quite an extraordinary vision, at that… for Garland, in a random flash of dark humor and megalomania, had modeled his first sentient creation after one of the most infamous characters from the _Holy Scriptures_: the Dark Messenger, a merciless Angel of Death sent to Terra whenever this God of the _Scriptures_ wanted to punish his people.

Some symbolism that was.

Kuja knew the legend well enough; he had done his fair share of reading, heard lots of rubbish from the old man, too. It seemed obvious that Garland, with his omnipotence, his absolute power over life and death, considered himself a divine being of sorts. Even if he hardly ever went into such abstract philosophy and called himself a mere servant of Terra, the undertone remained. He was a god, whereas Kuja was supposed to be the very embodiment of his angel, an exact copy of some mythical creature.

For that purpose alone, the old man had had to reshape almost the entire DNA sequence of an average Genome. The very DNA sequence that – as Kuja had discovered much, much later and entirely on his own – had been extracted from the dead people of Terra, cut into pieces, then altered accordingly to Garland's needs. The old man had been interested in specific characteristics; his Genomes were supposed to be healthy, strong, well-built and agile, not to mention smart enough to perform certain tasks, even though they lacked proper intelligence and failed to grasp the real purpose of their actions. No thanks to Garland, Kuja was all that--that and much, much more.

Unlike those mindless drones from Bran Bal, he understood what was going on. The Restoration was drawing near – and along with it, his own death. His body would continue to exist, perhaps, but the soul, his memories and personality, everything that mattered would _die_, only to be replaced by a different psyche, a different set of thoughts, an entirely new person…

And Garland actually expected him do accept that! Only because Kuja had been created like this, in a lab, he was supposed to resign himself to his fate, easily come to terms with such a destiny. He had to carry out every order given to him by the same man who had sentenced him to his death and acted mildly puzzled when Kuja tried to fight against it.

It was _just maddening_.

His Maker had blessed him with life – a soul that _must _have belonged to some Terran, a long time ago, because it certainly hadn't just popped out of thin air – but then he swiftly proceeded to disregard the obvious. Kuja was _not_ a mindless puppet, and his personality wasn't based on 'atavistic echoes, somatic memory, unconditional reflexes and malfunctioning synapses', whatever shit Garland could think of. What did the old man _knew_, anyway? _He_ was the one devoid of feelings, so what gave him the right to label someone else's emotions as artificial? To call a person's life an illusion?

Kuja leant forward, resting his forehead on his clasped hands. Long strands of hair fell over his cheeks, hiding most part of his face from view.

Fuck, if these were only the shadowy traces, the vestiges of humanity, then they were surprisingly _tangible_ shadows. Wasn't it _real_ hatred he felt for Garland, anyway? A hatred so strong that it was capable of making him stand up to his own, personal god, regardless of possible consequences? And what about everything else? He got angry when somebody offended him, didn't he? Loved to see a good play every now and then. If it was a comedy, he would laugh. Was it all fake?

No. It couldn't be. Still, the old man had his own opinion.

'_You are not human, and you will never be, so stop making human mistakes._'

Mistakes. Such as disobedience, or free will in general. Common sense. Conflicting emotions. The ability to think for himself, to make his own decisions, and on top of that, the audacity to speak when unasked, the nerve to question Garland's orders – if only to understand them better. Yes, according to such standards, his whole existence appeared to be one colossal mistake. He was definitely not the angel Garland had designed.

Strangely enough, there had been times when he had truly regretted being such a disappointment to his Creator. When he had wished he could have been just like the other Genomes – meek and obedient, perfectly content with following the man's instructions to the best of his abilities, hardly ever questioning his place in the grand scheme of the Restoration. If he hadn't been given a soul, he wouldn't have to feel, it was as simple as that. He wouldn't fucking have to worry about anything but keeping his stomach full, certainly not about a different soul entering his body, stealing his mind, his very own identity–

His time was running out, he knew. Starting a war in this world would be equivalent to setting off a time bomb under himself. Every dead Gaian, every new soul devoured and refined by Iifa brought him a step closer to the Restoration. Speeding up this process was no different from urging your own executioner to hurry up.

Then again, the war was necessary even for his own purposes; he needed it to assure Brahne's cooperation when it came to using her daughter, and most importantly, to divert the old fool's attention. As long as Garland was convinced that everything down here was going according to plan, he wouldn't interfere with Kuja's actions… until it would be too late. Until the so-called 'puppet' would shove his own superiority down the puppeteer's throat.

Straightening himself in his chair, the young sorcerer began to smooth out the crumpled map of Burmecia. Terran poetry could wait. There was still much work to do.

* * *

**End of Chapter Eight**

* * *

Author's Notes: Damn, not angst again. I actually had to stop myself from writing the whole story of Kuja's life at this point, because last time I checked, the fic was all about a certain, difficult relationship, not about my weird theories on souls and humanity. I'm trying to portray our villain here in a slightly tragic light, though. My inner fangirl forces me to do just that.

As for the _Holy Scriptures_… oh, c'mon. We _did_ have churches in FFVII, so they might as well become a part of old Terra's landscape. :P

The bit about Hilda's unborn baby was weird but I had my reasons – and 'mindless angst' wasn't one of them. I'll need to fit Eiko into the picture some time later, right?

Last but not least, I decided to include the part about Cid, because I'm currently toying with the idea of writing a short, additional scene between him and Kuja, one that takes place a few days after Lindblum is conquered. You know, the "hahahaha-I-know-where-your-wife-is-but-I'm-not-telling-you-that" sort of thing. I'm not sure if it's a _good_ idea, though.

I'm sorry it took me forever to update; writer's block it a horrible, _horrible_ thing. Many thanks to everyone who read, reviewed, or even faved this fic last time. **Shinimegami7**, **PsychoBlair**, **Sors**, **Black Mage Dad**, **TiA aRiEl**, **Menade**, **Rappy28**, **Bloody Vixen**, **Popgoesthebaldie**, **Neko Kuroban**, **sable-fahndu**, **Lauren**, **Draqua**, **Anjah**, **Yeshua**, **fyre byrd**, **Crazyclur** and **Darkladynyara** – each of your opinions feels very special to me. --bows deeply--


	9. Brahne's War

Author's Notes: My undying gratitude goes to **Sable** for proofreading this update _and_ for giving me some constructive criticism, which is something I _crave_. -crushes poor Sable in a tight hug- I would also like to thank all of you, especially these wonderful people who took the time to read the previous eight chapters, and are still willing to have a look at the ninth one, because they're not too bored with my writing. :) Honestly, I'm not worthy of your support, let alone of the positive feedback I've received so far.

I _am_ going to finish this story, because I know exactly what to write next… I just need to force myself to use English every time I start a new paragraph. :) There _will_ be some sort of romance between the two main charas, so don't worry. I'm just taking the 'painfully slow' approach here.

* * *

**Chapter Nine**

* * *

Soon after their awkward, unpleasant exchange in the library, Kuja had once again vanished from the palace. At first, Hilda had welcomed his prolonged absence as a genuine blessing: it was a chance to sooth her frayed nerves, perhaps even forget about the fear and humiliation of that horrible afternoon. The mages' company no longer upset her, to the point when she was almost starting to feel at home. The only thing that truly bothered her was loneliness, mixed with a bitter sense of defeat, the necessity of living at someone else's mercy. She had gradually become used to the feeling of entrapment—not a very difficult achievement, considering the fact that her prison made most aristocratic mansions pale in comparison—but at the same time, she couldn't stand the uncertainty of her situation. What was the reason she was being held captive? How long would it last?

She didn't realize what 'time-consuming duties' kept her host away, or how many important people he had to meet. The truth was, she didn't even want to know, because she realized just _where_ extensive curiosity led with this man. In consequence, she half-willingly cut herself off from the outside world, which was far out of her reach, anyway, and concentrated on coming to terms with her current lifestyle.

Kuja had taken most of the mages with him, and those few who remained hardly ever got in her way. Left without anything constructive to do, Hilda slept as long as she wanted, ate whenever she desired and crossed most of the hallways undisturbed. She didn't even try entering the top floor, for she could still remember the sorcerer's oddly serious warning about the security system. As long as she remained downstairs and inside the palace, she was safe. It suited her, at least for the time being.

She started to write a silly, satirical play to kill time, though she didn't treat this newly found hobby too seriously. She drew inspiration from one of the palace libraries, the _Gaian_ one, where she would spend most afternoons. Kuja, as it soon turned out, owned numerous books on almost everything, ranging from complicated, medical treaties to frivolous, erotic poems. Hilda sometimes wondered if he had read even half of those volumes—perhaps they were here merely for show. Then again, regardless of the answer, it didn't really matter.

* * *

"Good evening and good appetite, Lady Hilda."

In the peaceful stillness of the grand dining chamber, Kuja's charming voice was a shocking, yet not entirely unwelcome intrusion; even more so, considering the fact that she hadn't heard it in a very long time.

"You are back," she observed without skipping a beat, far too familiar with his silent arrivals to act scared when he suddenly greeted her from the doorway. Looking up from a small plate of salad, she watched him bow and then enter the room. "It has been a month, hasn't it?"

"Twenty-seven days, to be exact," he corrected in his all-knowing tone, hips swaying gently with every step he took in the table's direction. Such an effeminate way of walking happened to be yet another one of his distinctive mannerisms—and just like many times before, Hilda couldn't help but wonder if it was a genuine aspect of his personality, or merely a clever distraction to make him appear less deadly than he actually was. She thought it might be both.

Having finally reached the opposite side of the huge table, Kuja rested his palms on the top in a very casual, familiar manner, and then leant forward to slide his gaze over the various, mostly untouched dishes. His mouth was instantly twisted into a smirk. "My, my, I can see that you are enjoying yourself…"

"There is little to enjoy." She met his amused gaze with all the calmness she could muster, but inwardly she was fuming at both his rudeness and her own slip. As a prisoner, kidnapped against her will, she was supposed to disdain Kuja's hospitality and sniff at everything his house had to offer. She certainly didn't want her captor to think that she was starting to feel _comfortable_ in his palace, or at least settled enough to use his larder without any inhibitions. Unfortunately, he was bound to get such an impression tonight. Mistreated, miserable ladies held in desert strongholds rarely ate seafood for supper.

"Little?" Kuja repeated, raising an eyebrow at her. "Let me count…"

She interrupted him before he could add up the plates, "We both know I meant the meal's quality. Your servants are still terrible cooks who have troubles telling vinegar from wine, though I admit that lately they have improved, if only a little bit."

"Ah, but you realize that they've been created for a purpose different than cooking." There was a brief pause, and Kuja eventually smiled. "Looks like there _might_ be enough for two, and to tell you the truth, I'm quite hungry. Would you mind if I joined you, my lady?"

Hilda's eyes narrowed slightly. Since when did he remember to ask? Her voice was tinted with subtle sarcasm, as she spoke, "Go ahead, I won't mind. This is your house, after all."

Her mockery masked the fact that both sentences were blatant truths. She didn't exactly crave the man's presence, but at the same time, she knew she wouldn't mind sharing a conversation with him. A month spent in complete solitude—the mages didn't count, for they were as unresponsive as inanimate objects—had changed her perspective somewhat. Kuja might be unpredictable, irritating and tiresome, not to mention a horrible listener, but at least he was a fellow human being, a person she could talk to, without suffering from the impression that she was talking to a wall.

She saw him fetch himself a spare plate and a set of cutlery via a pair of silent mages, and then take a seat right in front of her. "I apologize for having to leave you alone for so long. It's a pity that I cannot spend more time in this place, if only to keep you company," he began in a smooth, conversational tone, for once managing to appear a bit remorseful, even though his next remark was clearly meant as a lighthearted joke. "I suppose you might have even started to miss me."

"Nowhere near as much as I miss Lindblum, I assure you," she shot back without thinking, and yet he only dismissed the embittered comment with a small shrug.

"I haven't felt homesick in years, so I cannot really sympathize." His voice didn't hold any warmth, but it wasn't sarcastic, either. "Your obvious regrets aside, how do you find your stay here?"

"Pointless and unnecessary." Hilda had no delusions about the man's true intentions. His question had been purely rhetorical, born out of politeness rather than actual interest. She could threaten him, beg or complain to her heart's content, and still he wouldn't just change his mind about freeing her. "Are you sure you even need me here?"

"Fortunately," Kuja spoke after a while, in a tone suggesting that there might be some double meaning to his words, "hardly anything I do these days is pointless and unnecessary. I admit I had my doubts at first, but now I see that keeping you alive was a good idea. Not to mention that you should actually thank me for bringing you here. You are safer this way."

The quizzical statement made her pause. "I beg your pardon?"

"Quite a few things have happened since we last dined together. You just don't know how many."

"Then, by all means, enlighten me." She bristled, perfectly aware that the man _was_ willing to tell her something, yet he was purposely delaying the moment, if only to irritate her further.

"As you wish." Several seconds had to pass before Kuja spoke again, in a calm and detached manner, "A war has recently broken out on the Mist Continent."

"A war? Are you serious?" She all but raised her voice at him, barely remembering to put the fork down as her fingers began to tremble. "How? A war started by whom? Against which country?"

"And which question should I answer first…?"

This time, the sarcasm was unbearable. Hilda felt like springing from her chair and hitting the young man across the face, regardless of all possible consequences. In the end, it was not fear but six feet of wood between them prevented her from carrying out her wish. Kuja, on the other hand, had already turned his attention to the food on the table – while they were discussing a _war_ here, of all things! His unwavering nonchalance was almost enough to make Hilda sick, and yet there was no need for him to see her so badly shaken. She took a deep breath, managing to calm herself down as much as possible, but then the real meaning of his words finally hit her.

"Is it true?"

"Why would I make something like this up, my lady?" the sorcerer said, reaching for a bowl of fresh seafood, not even bothering to look at her.

She found this newly discovered truth terribly hard to accept. Everything had been peaceful when she had left Lindblum less than three months ago, so why had the situation changed so much in such a short period of time? What could it possibly mean for her husband?

"I know that you have no reason to lie." She exhaled. "But then… who has started this war?"

Kuja had just begun to fill his plate with shrimps, but it didn't stop him from replying, in a shockingly dispassionate voice, "Brahne til Alexandros."

"I beg your pardon?" she exclaimed, perhaps a bit louder than intended. "But that's ridiculous! Queen Brahne would have never done such a thing!"

"She just has." The younger man shrugged. "Eight days ago her army passed the North Gate. The post fell at once, it certainly didn't stand a chance against thirty thousand Alexandrian soldiers. These troops are marching towards the capital as we speak. They should reach the city in about two weeks."

Still shocked by this recent revelation, Hilda sank back into her chair, staring at Kuja with wide, unseeing eyes. The sorcerer only smiled pleasantly before resuming his meal, a calm, impassive expression on his face as he bit into the first shrimp. By the look of things, he had to be very hungry. Hilda couldn't care less.

"Why would Lady Brahne start a war?" she eventually spoke, when she was certain that her voice wouldn't fail her. "What does she hope to gain by attacking Burmecia?"

"That's a good question." Kuja took up the subject almost immediately. "Wars are usually all about money, cheap labor force, a few misplaced border posts and such other trivial things. This one's different, though." He faked a heavy sigh. "It would seem that Queen Brahne looks up to her noble ancestors far too much. The legendary Alexander, in particular, the founder of the current dynasty, who had conquered the best part of the Mist Continent several hundred years ago. She wishes to live up to his example by gaining control of the whole world."

"Impossible!"

"Yet true."

A few long moments had to pass before Hilda was able to speak again. "I can't believe it. This is insane."

"Of course it is," the man agreed dispassionately, pouring himself some dry wine. "Insane and foolish. Brahne's ambition is but a fantasy. She's not fit to become such a leader, she lacks the necessary wisdom and charisma. Even if she managed to conquer the entire continent, her rule wouldn't last a year. In fact, I don't expect her to stay alive for so long." At this point, Kuja's voice was tinged with barely concealed amusement. "Sooner or later, she's bound to make some fatal mistake."

Hilda's thoughts didn't run that far into the future. She was still overwhelmed by the present.

"Alexander's legacy." She shook her head. "It doesn't make any sense! Of all possible reasons to start a war, this?"

"As you can see, it's as good a reason as any other. At least from Brahne's point of view."

"Though it is so unlike her! True, she has changed a lot after Lord Hadrian's death, but I have known her for years and…"

Again, Kuja cut her off in a rather unceremonious manner, "So have I. Unfortunately." He grimaced and then shrugged, his face resuming its earlier, detached look. "Personally, I believe that the king's death was but a gateway to make her realize and pursue her old ambition. She has always dreamt of such conquest, she just needed an impulse to act."

"What… what about Lindblum?"

"Hm? _What_ about Lindblum?" he repeated, tilting his head to the side. Seeing Hilda's frantic gaze, however, he dropped the sarcasm and went on, "Just like those rats from Cleyra, your husband chose to bury his head in the sand for now. He doesn't exactly approve of what Brahne is doing, but he won't help Burmecia, either. I guess that he still hasn't figured out the queen's true intentions, so he stalls for time. And meanwhile," Kuja's expression grew dark all of a sudden, "he plays cat and mouse with Alexandria. Most likely, he is the one responsible for kidnapping Princess Garnet."

As distracted as she was by her country's impending fate, Hilda couldn't help but cry out, "Princess Garnet was _kidnapped_?"

"Yes," the younger man nodded, and judging from the way his fingers clenched on the wine goblet, he must have been furious. "The little canary disappeared along with Captain Steiner and a troupe of wandering actors. Everyone's still searching for her."

Hilda unconsciously leant forward, burying her face in her hands. Lady Brahne's daughter had always been such a sweet, smart girl, it was impossible not to love her. The news of this kidnapping upset Hilda greatly, nearly as much as her husband's recent problems. And speaking of Cid…

"You are lying." She looked up, meeting the sorcerer's gaze over the table, as if daring him to contradict her words. "Cid couldn't have done such a thing. He would never hurt the princess."

Kuja sighed in irritation. "I didn't say he was going to hurt her. He probably thought she might be a valuable source of information on her mother. Oh, well…" The last traces of anger had finally vanished from his face. "In reality, the princess remains blissfully unaware of Brahne's activities."

Hilda fell silent, biting her lower lip in a vain attempt to gather her thoughts. It felt as if some invisible hand was clenching around her throat, up to the point when she was choking. So many disasters in such a short period of time… She pitied the young princess, but there was nothing she could do for her, especially if Kuja was right about the kidnapper's identity and his intentions. Worse still, Garnet's personal troubles faded in comparison with the tragedy thousands of people would soon have to face. The Burmecians were first to suffer, but then what? If Brahne truly desired to conquer the whole continent, an attack against Lindblum was only a matter of time. And Cid was there, all alone, stuck with an oglop's brain to take some of the most important military decisions she could imagine…

She sprang out of her chair. "Let me go."

"Please, sit down, Lady Hilda."

"I must return to Lindblum at once."

"Sit down," Kuja repeated, without even looking up from his plate. "Your Lindblum is safe for now. Brahne will need at least a month to conquer Burmecia."

"A month!" She really had to sit down, because her head was spinning. "That's just…"

"It _is_ possible, my lady," the man interrupted her in mid-sentence. "Brahne is an imbecile when it comes to long-term strategy, but she has two things that will assure her victory over those rats: the magnificent General Beatrix and my puppets. Burmecia will fall in a month, its fate is already sealed," he went on calmly, impaling two more shrimps on his silver fork. "The next logical move would be to capture Cleyra, but unfortunately, the tree is heavily guarded by a magical sandstorm. It'll take some extra effort to bring down their defenses."

"Lady Brahne will never be able to conquer Cleyra," Hilda decided grimly. It probably meant that the ancient tree would be spared… and that the Alexandrian troops would march straight at Lindblum. "In the past few decades no human has ever set foot in the city. Any attempt to break through the sandstorm by force will result in a terrible massacre."

"That's quite possible. Perhaps they will simply end up killing each other."

"How can you be so calm about this?" she cried out, exasperated. "Your queen wants to destroy half of the world in the name of some absurd ambition!"

Kuja cut her off rather abruptly, in a voice clearly saturated with irritation, "You are forgetting but one important thing—this is not my world, and the elephant-lady is no queen of mine." He shook his head then, expression once again changing. "I chose to align myself with Alexandria for the time being, because it'll help me achieve my personal goals, but in all honestly, I couldn't care less about the outcome of this conflict."

"Yes, I can see that," she hissed, not bothering to hide her own anger. She was reminded of her first meeting with Kuja at the Hilda Garde's open deck, of his indifference towards violence and bloodshed. During the past few weeks, she had almost forgotten how cold-hearted he truly was: nothing but a calculating villain who had no qualms about slaughtering people or threatening a lady. This very conversation had been enough to dispel her illusions.

"Still, you _are_ an Alexandrian nobleman, are you not? Queen Brahne's rule may be absolute, but she could have never started a war without the nobles' support!"

"No, of course not," came the man's answer from across the table. "The nobles decided to support her for various reasons. Some treat this war as an excellent opportunity to become rich in a short period of time, others dream of huge dominions in the west. A few fools enthuse about all those nationalistic ideas, Alexander's legacy and whatnot. Does it really surprise you, Lady Hilda? That's the way this world goes, no matter how you look at it."

"And you?" she spat. "Brahne is using _your_ mages as her weapons."

"I can't see anything wrong with that," he replied, tossing his hair over his shoulder in a very nonchalant gesture. "Unlike Alexandria's regular forces, my puppets are deadly, efficient, and above all, easily replaceable. Beatrix's soldiers could never dream of defeating Burmecia in less than a month. My Black Mages will do it."

"In other words, you must be blissfully happy. Tell me, as a weapons dealer, what is your part of the bargain? Free publicity? Riches beyond a man's wildest imagination?" So far, only some inborn dignity had kept her from raising her voice, and she could swear she was now one step from loosing her temper.

"I'm not interested in a handful of golden coins, I already have enough of these," he chuckled, but then his face grew darker—possibly for the first time this evening he was being serious. "As I've already said, this war serves as a means to achieve my personal goals, and it has nothing to do with money. You see, I _need_ this conflict… or, to be more specific, a man called Garland does. For Terra's sake."

"Terra?" She blinked. "What does Queen Brahne's war have to do with your Terra?"

"About everything," he replied coldly, pushing the empty platter aside. "To make a long story short, it's supposed to lead to Terra's Restoration."

That sentence alone made no sense at all, but it brought Hilda's worries to an entirely new level. "I still fail to see the connection."

"Terra is dead, all of its inhabitants perished in a worldwide cataclysm a long time ago. The cycle of life has stopped forever, and it won't continue unless someone or something sets it back into motion. Right now, the planet needs fresh souls to function properly, and since it doesn't have any such souls on its own, it has to feed on other worlds' lifeforce… Are you following me?"

"No," she said. "Not really."

"It's rather simple, though." He leant forward, resting his chin on his hands, neither amused nor compassionate. His blue eyes weren't empty, but the emotion hidden in them was impossible to read—it could have been everything from anger to almost-melancholy. "What do you think happens to a person's soul after that person dies?"

Hilda shook her head, because the question came across as odd, to say the least. It seemed as though they weren't discussing war anymore, as they had swiftly moved on to existentialist philosophy and other abstract concepts.

"No one truly knows," she replied at last, fully aware that she had never managed to solve this problem for good, just like most people she knew. "Some say that a soul doesn't even exist, that it's only a product of our imagination. Many claim it becomes reborn, or simply lives forever on a different plane of existence. The monks from Esto Gaza seem to believe in this particular theory, but you said they were wrong, if I remember correctly. Vysgota Covro, on the other hand, wrote that…"

"That a soul always dies along with the body," the man interrupted, clearly irritated with her inability to decide. "He was mistaken. Souls are immortal. And technically unchangeable."

Hilda stirred. The hypothesis in itself was nothing new, but Kuja had voiced his opinion in the same tone and manner one might use to announce that two times two equaled four… as if it were some unquestionable truth of life. She swallowed it in silence, too numb to polemicize.

"Yes," he continued, "souls are immortal, or at least the matter of which they are composed is. A single psyche can be obliterated by force, but even in such case, the contents never die, they just become scattered. Usually, though, the soul remains intact after its host dies. It enters a new body after a while, freed of its former memories, of all experience that might have shaped a particular person, but basically the same at the moment of birth. And the cycle continues."

It all came down to the belief that old men passed away to return as newborn babies. Yes, with some effort, she could accept that hypothesis as a fact. Several Gaian churches had been teaching a similar thing for centuries… and for centuries, trusting in such teachings had been a matter of one's religion or philosophy. Kuja spoke of souls as if they were a part of science. Hilda found the difference quite striking.

"But you said that… on Terra…?"

The man didn't lift his chin from his clasped hands. "When too many people die at once, the entire balance is disturbed. Numberless souls undergo decomposition in a very short period of time, and in the resulting chaos they cannot form anew. Then, left alone for too long, the particles eventually grow weaker. A planet's lifeforce ceases to exist."

"Is this what really happened?"

"More or less. However, Terra can be restored. All it needs are some new souls from a world such as yours."

"Don't tell me…"

"A special 'device' transfers all decayed souls from Gaia to Terra," Kuja went on without a pause. "For the lack of a better term, it assimilates them. When a person dies on this planet, their soul automatically becomes a part of a different system. The process has been going on for centuries, and after enough souls are collected, it'll finally be complete. The thing is, Terra's slowly running out of time. It won't survive another hundred years. Do you see it now? A global war, Brahne's war, means death on a mass scale. Something like that will speed up the process tremendously."

For a long, painfully silent moment, Hilda kept opening and closing her mouth, unable to say a word. Either she was sitting before a complete madman who loved to imagine the most bizarre, morbid nonsense _ever_… or a complete madman who had just casually informed her that a world different than her own was toying with souls, with the very concept of life and death on Gaia, and they had gone as far as to manipulate their realm…

"Are you _serious_? Is it even possible?" she breathed at last, wishing he would curl his lips into one of those mocking smiles, and then dismiss everything as a mere joke.

"Yes." Kuja straightened himself up, lowering his slender arms onto the table. "In case you're wondering, it's been done in the past, only with different planets, and never to such an extent. Terra is essentially a parasite."

"A parasite?" she repeated, understanding yet unwilling to accept the implications. "But what would happen if too much souls were taken from Gaia…?"

"Haven't you listened to a word I said?" This time, there was a slight hint of impatience to the sorcerer's voice. "It would lead to a great disturbance and consequently to the collapse of the entire biospiritual system. Not exactly a death sentence for this planet, but close enough. Most sentient species would have to face mass extinction."

"All that _after_ a war," she spoke with some difficulty; a war that could easily turn into mass extinction on its own. "That's just… that's just…"

"Gruesome, at least from your point of view?" he supplied with a short laugh. "The Terrans would've disagreed with you. In the end, it can be all summed up as a basic principle of the universe: the strong have the right to feed on the weak, whereas–"

"Stop it!" Hilda finally lost her composure, raising her voice to cut the man short, vaguely aware of how unwise it was to interrupt Kuja, yet no longer caring. For at long moment, she stared at his face, her own chest falling and rising in an uneven rhythm. She _hated_ him and his wretched nonchalance, the fact that he didn't even have enough decency to avert his cold gaze. He simply stared back, not a trace of remorse marring his inhumanly perfect features.

She hated having to believe him.

"Don't misunderstand me," he said at last, and even blinded by her own emotions, Hilda was able to sense the slight change in his tone. "I don't give a damn about Terra. It may as well crumble to dust the moment we speak, and I couldn't care less. In fact, I'd gladly see it die."

"It's only a game to you, then… you don't care about _anything_," she hissed, still far from calm but at least able to keep up the appearances. "Why have you told me all this? Supposing it's _true_, of course?"

"Because you asked one question too many, and also because I can." He leant back in the mahogany chair. "You won't be able to do anything about it, so there was no point in keeping things from you." _Because he was going to kill her, anyway?_ Hilda didn't have the time to voice the thought as the man spoke again, "And the game you mentioned happens to be too complex for you to understand… my lady."

The polite title meant that they were back to their regular, idle chatter, complete with the impenetrable barrier of pretense. Kuja had obviously lost interest in trying to explain things.

"Is there a way to stop this assimilation?"

The sorcerer rose from his seat, once again meting Hilda's azure eyes over the table. He was back to his usual self, cold and charming at the same time, not even bothering to hide the mocking undertones in his speech. "Given your means, no. It's pointless to worry about things that never were and never will be under your control, such as this war, for example. Why don't you just enjoy your safety at the palace?"

"How easy for you to say," she spat, feeling her weariness grow.

"I admit I don't speak from my own experience," he smirked, bending down in a familiar parody of a bow. "And now, if you will kindly excuse me, Lady Hilda… It's already late and I still have a few important things to do. Sleep well." A soft swish of clothing and he was already walking towards the door, once again cruel in his nonchalance. "Don't let the nightmares haunt you."

* * *

**End of Chapter Nine**

* * *

Author's Notes: To do Cid's character some justice, I need to mention that he actually decided to help the Burmecians, even though I was never able to see _how_. Here's the official script:

Minister Artania: "This is a problem... Because of the festival, there are hardly any men left in the castle. It will take time to mobilize."

Regent Cid: "We have no choice... Call back the 4th aerial division patrolling the border."

Minister Artania: "But if we recall the 4th, we will lose our eyes over Alexandria."

Regent Cid: "(Gwok-gwok) Burmecia is our ally. We must help them."

Heh, I changed the canon and this is all Sable's fault. :) Because of her fic, I'm suddenly starting to feel unsympathetic towards the poor guy.

Kuja's treaty on souls was a weird product of my own, demented imagination. Coming to think of it, I don't even believe in souls. Really, truly. Our personalities and emotions are nothing but products of some chemical reactions in our body, as far as I'm concerned. Feel free to disagree, I'm about as competent as your average person.

In any case, I promise I won't torment you with this silly philosophy from now on. Stay tuned for the next chapter, in which we will catch a glimpse of Cid… and a certain Lady Rose. :)


	10. The Puppeteer's Amusement

Author's Notes: You didn't expect an update so soon after the ninth chapter was posted, did you? Well, here it goes, another part for you, just before Christmas, all thanks to Sable who was able to proofread it in next to no time!

A few words of explanation before we start: Beatrix never participated in Brahne's attack on Lindblum. She 'betrayed' her queen just before that, when she saw how the elephant-lady had turned against her only daughter. However, for the sake of this story (and a certain pairing *cough*), I'm going to pretend that she came to her senses and left the army soon after the city was conquered, not a single day earlier. I hope I'm not pushing it too far; my fic was supposed to follow canon, after all…

If too much people complain about this chapter, I'll rewrite, or simply delete the whole thing, but maybe this won't be necessary. Read on and witness the extent of Kuja's manipulative skills, as well as his seductive (and clueless) side.

* * *

**Chapter Ten**

* * *

"Regent Cid." A solemn, female voice cut the awkward stillness of the throne chamber. The words weren't accompanied by any rustle of clothing. The speaking woman didn't bow.

"General Beatrix," came the regent's reply. He sounded oddly dignified for a creature who was currently less than two feet tall, a ridiculously small bug in his large, decorative seat. He hadn't stood up to greet his guests, either, even though he had known the Alexandrian general for years. The animosity in the air was almost tangible…

And suddenly, Kuja felt like howling with laughter. He wanted to throw his head back and laugh, long and hard, at the man's current predicament, at Hilda's clever perversity, at the hilariousness of it all. Who would have thought that the noble Lady Lioness was capable of such a wicked revenge? That she had this sort of taste for humor and irony?

His face itched to smile, but he remained as stiff as the armed, one-eyed woman by his side. Appearances had to be kept. His part as Brahne's well-mannered advisor wasn't over yet.

He guessed that Beatrix would feel obliged to introduce him. Little did she know, Kuja had already met the regent on several occasions. The first time had been four years ago, in Treno, at one of those fancy costume balls organized by Duchess Wallon. Kuja distinctively remembered that Lord Fabool had arrived alone, without the escort of his wife. It had allowed him to flirt shamelessly with the gorgeous hostess.

Back to the present, a far more stunning woman raised her left hand, tracing a small arch in the sorcerer's direction. "Count Kuja King," she said simply, without even looking at him.

Kuja nodded, but he kept his expression cold, devoid of any politeness, let alone friendliness. From his point of view, it was useless to waste respect or warm gestures on a fallen enemy. Lady Beatrix, though certainly not as heartless as she was often painted, must have felt the same way, because her face remained equally indifferent as she went on, "Lord Fabool, I have come here in the name of my queen, to discuss the terms of your unconditional surrender."

Kuja smiled slightly at that particular choice of pronouns, but he didn't see the need to correct a thing. After all, he stood before the regent at his own whim, not because Brahne or Beatrix asked him to participate in these rather one-sided negotiations. And it was true that the elephant-lady was _not_ his queen, in spite of what everybody assumed.

The overgrown bug didn't even stir on his throne. "Naturally, but does that mean Her Majesty wouldn't even grace me with her presence?"

Kuja bit back a snicker. To an untrained ear, Cid's voice must have sounded perfectly neutral, almost courteous. In reality, it had been everything but that.

"No, I'm afraid not," the general replied, unbothered by—and possibly unaware of—the sarcasm. She clearly didn't intend to apologize for Brahne's actions, though she felt compelled to offer some sort of an explanation, "In any case, the new peace treaty I'm going to present is a mere formality. Her Majesty won't discuss it with you, unless it's absolutely necessary… That is, unless you refuse to sign it within a week."

"Very well," the regent hid his sour expression under a civil half-smile. "Speak, Lady Beatrix. I'm listening -_gwok_- to your every word."

_As if you had a choice, _Kuja thought bemusedly, unable to contain a smirk as the woman by his side began to recite a long list of conditions in a cold, detached and highly professional manner. There was no reason for him to pay attention to her soliloquy, and he would bet ten Gil to a kingdom that the regent was going to sign the treaty before sundown, without much consideration. He knew all too well that the said document was flawed, leaving Cid more freedom than actually seemed reasonable.

It was his own work, of course, a mild subterfuge on his part. If the people of Lindblum were given enough means, they would soon think to retaliate against their oppressors, and if they started a full-scale rebellion, it would mean more bloodshed on both sides. In other words, more fresh souls for Iifa. Kuja reckoned it could temporarily divert Garland's attention, lull him into a false sense of security. He needed some extra time to lay his hands on Alexander, the most powerful Eidolon on Gaia.

Lady Beatrix had no idea of the sorcerer's true plans, and yet she was clever enough to realize certain things—it was only natural that she would frown upon the badly formulated treaty. Then again, for such a great commander, who had never lost a single battle, she had surprisingly little influence on her country's politics. It appeared that Brahne had next to no respect for the renowned general, whereas, ironically enough, she still had faith in Kuja's competence, regardless of their mutual dislike.

Ah, but the term 'dislike' was to be used as a mild euphemism in this particular context…

After Beatrix had finished talking and answered all of the regent's questions, she promptly turned to leave. Kuja, on the other hand, remained glued to the spot. It earned him a quizzical glance from the woman, but then she merely shrugged and strode towards the exit, having possibly assumed that her companion was staying behind on the queen's orders.

As much as he hated being mistaken for Brahne's servant, Kuja didn't give a damn about these assumptions. _Let Beatrix think what she wants_, the farce was going to end soon enough. He just needed her out of the chamber, and when the harsh footsteps finally faded in the distance, he turned back to the giant oglop.

"Lord King, is -_gwok_- something the matter?" Cid's misleadingly neutral voice could have fooled even the most skilful politician. It was easy to tell where Hilda had picked up some of her mannerisms.

Kuja's eyes were twinkling with barely controlled amusement, as he spoke, "I could've asked you the same question, if the answer hadn't been so obvious, just from looking at you."

"I beg your pardon?" Once again, the tone didn't waver.

"You know very well what I mean. Even a White Mage in training will tell you that this is no ordinary curse," the young man went on at last, folding his arms across his chest. His whole posture spelt lazy self-confidence. "If I were you, I would never try to get rid of it with the help of suspicious charlatans, or some fishy medicine." He paused. "Of course, I'm not you. There's no way I could guess the… extent of your desperation, but I'm quite certain that you would sacrifice a lot to see your wife again, would you not? Your dubious feelings for her aside, she's the only one who can make you human again."

"That was… a truly curious choice of words on your part." Cid's eyes had narrowed into slits. Nonetheless, his flat, insect-like face remained very much unreadable. "Let me be equally blunt, then. Your official title aside, who the hell are you? An Alexandrian spy? Or perhaps the kidnapper himself?"

Such rudeness, coming from a defeated ruler who was in no position to make demands, was simply inexcusable. Swallowing his anger for the time being, the white-haired Angel of Death tilted his head to the side and laughed, in the most beautiful—most terrifying—manner the other man could ever witness.

"Neither, but you should watch your mouth, _sire_. Similar suspicions are considered offensive by the majority of people. Really, I think I should just turn on my heel and leave."

The regent's voice was colder than the snows in Esto Gaza, "You won't leave until you explain yourself."

"And how are you going to stop me?" Kuja kept smiling, enjoying every single second of the newly started game. "Your city… no, your entire country is currently under occupation, and I can't see any of your guards in this chamber. Just four Alexandrian soldiers behind the door. If you tried to attack me… If you so much as raised your voice to me, what do you think might happen?"

Cid's irritation shone helplessly in a pair of his black eyes, but he had already recovered his nerve. "You blame me for loosing my patience? Please, either get to the point, or get out. You knew about -_gwok_- my wife and the origins of the curse, fine, I'm not going to ask how. Just what else do you know?"

"Not much," the younger of the two replied with a sigh. "I'm not a spy and I swear that kidnapping your wife was never my intention." _Until she flew directly into my arms, that is. _Who would've guessed that half-truths could be so deceiving? "I just happen to be better informed than most. And perhaps lucky at times."

"What do you mean?"

Kuja's face turned into a mask of feigned seriousness. He reached into one of the pockets of his tunic, producing a small, rectangular piece of cloth. Ever so deliberate, he walked up a bit closer to the throne, stopping to toss the light fabric in Lord Fabool's direction, making sure it fell straight in his lap, courtesy of a simple Float spell. "Did that, by any chance, belong to Lady Hilda?"

Cid froze at the sight of his wife's handkerchief in his own grasp. A moment later yet another comical 'gwok' escaped his mouth, a clear sign of his strong feelings. He must have recognized the embroidered monogram, or the whiff of the woman's favorite perfume, which still lingered within the delicate material.

Beady eyes shot up in an instant, "Where did you get this? Is she alive?" If the regent hadn't been but a short oglop at the moment, by now he would have surely stood face to face with Kuja, demanding instead of asking—the younger man was certain of it.

"Alive? At the moment?" He stared down at the bug. "I have absolutely no idea."

_True enough._ He had left Hilda with the Black Mages, ordered them to keep an eye on her and make sure she stayed out of trouble. The thing was, these creatures were just mindless puppets, not exactly the most reliable guards, let alone guardians. They had problems with capturing and subduing people, they were far more efficient at killing them on the spot. If Hilda did something stupid, like trying to escape, or entering the top floor of the palace, there was simply no way of predicting the mages' reaction.

So no, he had no idea if she was still alive.

Kuja kept these musings to himself, of course, watching the oglop's flat, infuriatingly empty face. In spite of his own self-assurance, he knew that Cid Fabool was not an idiot. At this point of their conversation, the regent must have realized that something was wrong, that the so-called Alexandrian count wasn't telling him the whole story.

It made the game so much funnier.

He sighed in mock pity, and then ran a hand through his long hair, currently tied back with a white ribbon. "This," he lied without bating an eyelid, as he nodded at the handkerchief in Cid's lap, "was found quite recently in the middle of Eunorus Plains." In reality, he had just taken the material from Hilda's dresser about two weeks ago. He wondered if the woman had ever noticed her loss. "The people who stumbled across it told me of eleven corpses, all of them clad in Lindblum uniforms. There was no sign of your airship, and those guards died from something different than a regular sword. Either your wife murdered them, or they were attacked by someone else. And speaking of Lady Hilda, her body was never found. Draw your conclusions."

The regent's silence seemed to stretch into eternity. Lord Fabool had turned his head to the side and leant forward, managing to look as serious as it was possible for an overgrown field pest with a silly moustache. Taking advantage of the man's downcast gaze, Kuja impatiently tapped his fingers against his arm, and yet he was careful not to say a word.

"What the hell are you suggesting?" Cid spoke after a while, straightening himself with some effort. His voice sounded suspiciously flat, but it was obvious that he had already swallowed the bait. "I'm sure that Queen Brahne would never use these mages of hers to…" He trailed off.

_Bull's-eye. _Kuja smiled inwardly, struggling to keep his somber façade. "Just like she would never attack Lindblum?" he finished, arching an eyebrow. "You can't possibly believe this nonsense."

This time, the pause was nowhere near as long as before. "And why am I hearing this from you, of all people? A twenty-something nobleman from Treno, if I remember correctly? Doesn't your loyalty lie with your sovereign?"

The corners of Kuja's mouth rose slightly. "Funny that you would ask. For the time being, my loyalty lies mostly with myself."

"Fine, I guess it doesn't matter," the regent exhaled, without tearing his eyes off the other man's face. "What do you want with me?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all." The declaration couldn't have been more sincere. _I_ _believe I've already got what I wanted_, he thought, watching the oglop's frame tense in suspicion. _Your airship weeks ago and a fair share of fun today. If only you started a bloody uprising against Brahne's forces, I would be most satisfied, indeed. _"I won't help you any more than I already have. And right now," he nodded at the handkerchief, "there's nothing you could possibly offer me in return for this."

"Right now, you say… but even information never comes for free, does it?"

Kuja suppressed an amused sigh; why couldn't that fat elephant-lady have at least a quarter of this bug's brains? Cid was catching up quicker than expected.

"Perhaps," he smiled. "Allow me to phrase it this way, then… If your precious airship is ever found, you'll let me keep it." The regent's expression turned to a slight grimace, but he remained silent, and so the young man went on, "It must be a splendid work of craft, right? Cedar wood and platinum propellers, from what I've heard, and above all, a double-acting non-Mist engine with a valve that allows high-pressure steam to act alternately on both sides of the piston…" So primitive compared to the old Terran technology, but damn, it had been such a mess to fix.

Cid was obviously uninterested in discussing the technical details of his masterpiece. "If that is your deal, so be it."

"Why, thank you." Kuja forced himself to bow, a pleasant expression frozen on his lips. "I hope that it will not be a too high price for your wife's life."

* * *

Beatrix waited from him on a large terrace that overlooked the eastern part of the city, now almost completely razed to the ground. She stood closer to the stairs than to the railing, seemingly quite impatient to leave. With her arms folded across her chest, she surveyed the spectacular picture of destruction before her eyes. Her pale face betrayed no emotions, but Kuja knew better—Beatrix was soft on the inside, absurdly honorable, close to her breaking point. Her days with Brahne were numbered.

He walked forward, past the motionless woman, stopping only a few feet before the balustrade. Down below, thick smoke was raising from a huge pile of debris that had used to be houses, shops, theatres. Even though their attack had ended in the middle of the night, a good few hours ago, he could still see fire lick a couple of roofs in the distance.

He was suddenly reminded of one of Lord Avon's less popular plays, one called _The Fall of Dorn_. It told the story of a proud, yet short-sighed nation, ultimately defeated by a horde of hungry barbarians. In one of the final scenes of that play, Havel, the Prefect of Dorn, went out to his balcony, where he would raise his arms and mourn the sad fate of his city…

Kuja smiled to himself, spreading his arms in an almost exact copy of Havel's gesture, but instead of quoting the play – _'Oh, hath thou truly earned thy cruel fate? Must thou be torne apart by mercenaries' hands?' _– he said simply, "Isn't this beautiful?"

He could hear Beatrix snort quietly behind his back. She had never been too fond of his theatrics, which only made him all the more eager to resort to stage language in her presence.

"This sort of destruction?" Her voice sounded flat and nearly disapproving.

"This sort of _power_," he corrected, eventually lowering his outstretched hands. His right palm came to rest on his hip. "How quickly we have brought the city to its knees…"

"'We'?" He could almost picture her shaking her head in a half-thoughtful, half-incredulous gesture. "It seems as if I had no part in this conquest. It was your Mages and the queen's Eidolons that did the whole job."

"You feel useless and disappointed, don't you? Because you didn't get the glory you deserve?"

"Don't be ridiculous," as expected, the general's words rang with genuine indignation. She paused. "I feel apprehensive. This is going too easily."

"And it troubles you?" He finally turned around, sliding his gaze over her tense shoulders. "Would you have rather lost half of your soldiers in the yesterday's battle?"

"No, but I appreciate fighting fair. Using conventional weapons."

"Fair?" he exclaimed with a soft chuckle. "Ah, here we go again. From your point of view, fighting is an art, based on an array of strict rules that were established centuries ago. Don't let your archaic code of honor blind you, Lady Rose. There's nothing unfair in winning."

"And winning, the goal in itself, justifies all means? It's always been _your_ maxim, hasn't it?" she spoke coldly. "I guess that's the part where our views will never cease to differ."

Kuja had to clench his teeth to keep himself from saying something harsh and _true_, for a change, something he might come to regret a bit later. Beatrix was right, they were just two adversaries with different, clashing sets of principles. Both equally stubborn, steadfast in their self-righteousness—their standpoints located worlds apart, most literally. He couldn't help but notice how the outbreak of war had made them grow even more distanced from each other… Not that they had ever been truly 'together' to begin with.

"Careful, careful." Angry as he was, he eventually opted for the all-purpose mockery. "This maxim, of which you so disapprove, happens to be your queen's current motto. If you intend to criticize it in public, I'd rather advise you to remain silent, for your own sake."

She snorted in reply, knowing all too well that he was only teasing her. "Don't preach at me about treachery, Kuja."

"I'm going to overlook that meaningful ring to your tone."

"And perhaps you shouldn't."

"Ever the same, Lady Rose," he laughed in a lovely, light-hearted manner. "Just because I won't bow my neck the way everyone else does, you keep accusing me of dirty intentions."

"_Groundlessly_, I suppose." There was no trace of humor in her low voice.

"Wake up and have a look around, my sweet hawk," he countered, unwilling to give in to this ridiculous turn in their conversation. Beatrix was too smart for her own good. Was it perhaps that fabled sixth sense some women were said to possess? "Treachery is nothing uncommon these days." His laughter faded as he raised a hand, gesturing at the city below the terrace, without taking his eyes off the lady general. "Alexandria has just turned against its long-term ally. _This_ is the real reason behind your sour grimace, is it not?"

The woman didn't answer at once. Lost in thought, she turned her head away, fixing her gaze on the door that led back to the castle. A stray beam of sunlight caught her hair, instantly setting it aflame, turning the brown strands into a sea of liquid gold. Kuja drew a sharp breath; once again, he was forcibly reminded of her beauty. His fascination with her had survived quite a few years, in spite of their mutual secrets, different personalities and countless arguments, most of them much fiercer than the one they were having today.

Right now, when her mouth was pressed into a harsh line, she seemed genuinely unhappy. For some inexplicable reason he had never managed to comprehend, he disliked seeing her like this.

"What troubles you, Lady Rose? You pity that man, don't you?"

"The regent?" she answered at last, meeting his unwavering gaze. "You would pity him, too, if only you knew what pity was. During the past few months, he's lost almost everything—his wife and airship, his pride, the entire country. Surely, I thought, _surely_ there had to be something left… but today I saw that I was mistaken. He has lost everything, even his own body." She frowned. "Yes, I pity him. You, on the other hand, seem to enjoy all of this too much."

"Enjoy?" He smiled with the corners of his lips. "Perhaps. A little."

"Is there an end to your cynicism?"

The sorcerer's smile didn't vanish. "I'm just being honest."

"You're everything but honest," Beatrix muttered, dropping her gloved hand to the sword's handle. Much to Kuja's disappointment, she ignored his taunts, didn't pick up the challenge. "Come. We must speak with Her Majesty."

"You do your report, Lady Rose," he shrugged, walking up to the stiff woman, stopping when they were only three feet apart.

"The queen–"

"Wouldn't mind seeing only you," he cut her off. "I have other business to attend to."

Beatrix threw him a look that couldn't have been described as warm, in spite of the observer's best intentions. Unmoved by such disdain, Kuja bit back a chuckle. His impertinence towards the fat elephant-lady was one of the many things Beatrix would never forgive him. Not that it really mattered.

"It's something extremely important, I presume," she said after a brief moment. "Do you realize, Kuja, that you smell of a woman's perfume?"

_What the…?_ His eyes widened in uncontrolled surprise. Beatrix's final words seemed nothing short of surreal, no wonder they caught him off guard so completely. He would have expected anything but this from her mouth, and above all, he couldn't have possibly–

_Hilda's handkerchief—_the realization almost made him groan. He had been carrying it for several hours, in his breast pocket, so perhaps his clothes were now soaked with its scent, strong enough to become noticeable when he was standing so close to someone else. Still, Beatrix's remark made no sense at all. She was not the kind of woman to notice such things, let alone comment on them. Could it mean that she…

No. No, of course not. Jealousy was the last thing he would have expected from her.

He shook his head, finally realizing that he had been staring at the general this entire time. Hell, it was so entirely unlike him.

"It's…" he began, assuming his normal look of bored nonchalance—and suddenly very much aware that he had no idea how to finish his sentence. When had been the last time someone had managed to render him speechless? As far as he was concerned, such things _never_ happened to him.

"It's _fine_," Beatrix interrupted, and he found himself unable to recognize the flicker of emotion in her voice. "We don't own each other, we have already agreed on that a long time ago."

"No ties, no obligations, noting but pleasure. It's quite convenient this way." Kuja feigned an unforced, perfectly natural smile. He didn't have to look around to notice that they were alone. The stillness of the terrace, mixed with the distant moans of the charred city, was ringing loudly in his ears. "And speaking of pleasure, how much time has it been since we last…?"

He was certain that the lady general wouldn't reply, even if she actually knew the answer. She thought herself above his games and provocations, so she remained stiff when he raised a hand, and then placed it gently on her rose tattoo, currently obscured by a thick layer of cotton.

She shivered under his touch, nonetheless, and for a brief moment he assumed she might become submissive, but then her fingers found his own, prying them off the inner side of her thigh.

"Not now," she said at last, measuring him with a cold gaze. "Queen Brahne is waiting."

"But of course." He tilted his head to the side and smiled, not even bothering to hide how fake that expression was. "Your elephant-lady always comes first."

"I thought I asked you not to use this disrespectful name in my presence."

"Just go," he insisted. "Queen Brahne is waiting."

* * *

**End of Chapter Ten**

* * *

Author's Notes: I know Cid is a nice, polite man, which is why making him so rude and demanding towards Kuja seemed kind of strange, but I guess that dealing with sneaky bastards can irritate even the most patient of people. Cid's also upset and worried about Hilda, which made him fall into the younger man's trap quite easily. Poor guy, he didn't even stand a chance.

Heh, sorry about that Kuja/Beatrix thing, I just had to give in to my little obsession. I'm a K/B shipper through and through.

Next time on _Unreachable_: Hilda finally tries to escape, which means we're going to see some action, other than passing the salt by the table. :) Oh, and the relationship between the two main characters can _at last_ evolve into something semi-romantic. Wish me luck, perhaps I'll be able to finish this chapter before the end of the year.

Thanks for the taking the time to read this chapter! Marry Christmas, everyone! Have fun with your family and friends!


	11. Protect Me From What I Want

Author's Notes: First of all, I want to thank all of you who used to enjoy this story in the past, and happily clicked on the new link today, still interested in reading some more. I know it's been an eternity since I last posted a new chapter, and I apologize _profusely_ for the delay. Such a total collapse of my update schedule was really quite unexpected, even given my usual tardiness. I've never, _ever_ intended to give up on this fic in the first place – and I'm still not planning to. The whole thing _will_ be finished one day, preferably _before_ we all manage to die of old age. I've already put too much work into this story to simply abandon it, disappointing what little audience I have left.

Damn, this chapter was just _impossibly_ difficult to complete! I knew exactly what I wanted to write, I had a bunch of appropriate scenes stuck in my had for ages, but I couldn't bring myself to form even a single decent sentence in English. No, I have absolutely no idea _why_. In the end, however, I'm glad I clenched my teeth and forced myself to continue.

Go ahead, have a look at the final result of my struggles. :) But just before you do, I need to mention that** sable-fahndu** was kind enough to proofread this chapter for me, and I thank her for that with all my heart!

* * *

**Chapter Eleven**

* * *

Hilda still found it hard to believe that so many things could change in such a short period of time.

The morning she had flown off the capital's docks had been a bright, pretty one—warm and adorned with the shy rays of rising sun. She could still remember standing on the lower deck, watching her marvelous hometown run below the ship's hulk. Her heart had been filled with bitterness, yet also with a sense of peace. She had been hoping that Cid would eventually learn his lesson. It had never been her intention to abandon the man or her city forever. She loved them both dearly, even if they didn't deserve it sometimes.

The country she had left but a few weeks ago had been stable, alive with thousands of more or less prosperous people. Cid's worries those days had been limited to supervising the engineers, eliminating faults from their technical sketches, and of course finding new ways to drag attractive women to his bed, preferably without his wife noticing. Hilda had cut through that idyll with her actions, although she would have never expected Queen Brahne to follow.

No matter how much she thought about the recent events and the months that preceded them, she still couldn't figure out what had driven the calm, rather indolent woman to begin her mad quest of bringing the whole world to its knees. The fact that the ruling lady had a handful of grandiose ideals—and the means necessary to execute them—didn't seem like a worthy excuse. After all, the era of ancient kings and Alexander's victories was long over. Bloody wars for domination should not be happening at the turn of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. What good had it done to break the old peace treaty, ruining people's lives and the continent's economy? It could only be described as pure insanity, as hard to accept as it was real.

The first nations to suffer had been Burmecia and Cleyra—the undefeatable Cleyra, _fallen_, who would have ever imagined such a thing?—and then, ultimately, Alexandria had turned her greedy eyes to Lindblum. The capital city had been defeated in five days; it didn't withstand the combined forces of General Beatrix's well-trained soldiers and Kuja's Black Mages.

Despite being an isolated hostage with no way to contact the outside world, Hilda was well aware of the war's progress and the situation on the main continent. Kuja's talkativeness was both a curse and a blessing. The sorcerer had returned to the palace yesterday, after yet another long period of absence, looking both tired and vaguely satisfied. Hilda knew that it would be foolish not to tie this satisfaction with the recent events. He was glad with the way things had turned out, though at least he regained enough decency to hide these feelings in her presence. He had recounted the troops' movements and the contents of the new peace treaty in a calm, indifferent voice, trying not to smile much, albeit the positive effect was somewhat ruined by the delight shining is his blue eyes.

Perhaps some other time, she would have thought to criticize his complete lack of empathy, yet at that point she had found herself paying little attention to the smooth tone in which the man had delivered the news and answered some of her questions. It had been the contents of their conversation that really bothered her. Kuja had told her of defeated armies and the capital city's partial destruction. According to him, a few strongholds in the far west still managed to repulse the enemy attacks, but it was only a matter of time before they too would fall before the invaders. It appeared that Lindblum's fate was already sealed, regardless of the soldiers' determined resistance.

At least Cid was _safe_. It was perhaps the only good news Hilda had heard yesterday evening, a ray of hope shining through the mass of stormy clouds above her head. Her husband had survived the onslaught of the Black Mages. Lady Brahne had spared his life and put him into house arrest, instead. Humiliating as it might have seemed, it was certainly a better option than kissing the executioner's axe.

Of course, the situation was still unstable and dangerous. Brahne had transformed from a reasonable queen to a whimsical fiend. There was no way of telling for how long her graciousness would last, and in the meantime, Cid was trapped. So was Hilda—although she was finally determined enough to yank her chains out of Kuja's hands, even if it would cost her every single ounce of courage she possessed.

* * *

A couple of weeks ago, Hilda would have considered tying a few curtains together a complete folly. She had thought of it previously, yet always dismissed the idea as downright suicidal. It was quite ironic, then, how her single conversation with Kuja could change her perspective, make her attitude shift from a passive resistance to a forceful opposition. Inaction was no longer a good choice, not under these circumstances. She couldn't continue to wrap herself in the comfortable safety of her prison, doing nothing at all as she waited for a change of her captor's mind, a rescue party, or a bloody miracle.

She feared for Cid's life and realized that the man needed her by his side, not only to be freed from the mean curse, but also as his advisor. Last night, she had barely managed to get a few hours of sleep, haunted by the images of her city reduced to a state of ruin, and in the end she had reached the only right conclusion. At a time like this, when people's lives and the country's future was at stake, it was impossible to avoid danger, let alone hold a grudge against the unfaithful bastard. She could always attempt to strangle him _later_, after she had helped him to liberate Lindblum and informed him of the gruesome scheme the Terrans had prepared for Gaia. Both Brahne and the parasite planet hanging ominously in the sky had to be stopped. Hilda was still unsure if she hadn't made a mistake by believing in the sorcerer's startling revelations so easily, but she wasn't going to dwell on her doubts right now. She would worry about establishing the truth no sooner than her country was free of the more immediate threat.

The biggest difficulty, of course, lay in reaching the Hilda Garde unnoticed and unharmed. As long as she managed to board the flying vessel, she would be safe. Thanks to Cid's annoying insistences in the past, she was currently skilled enough at piloting and navigation to steer the ship in the right direction, and then avoid a spectacular crash along the way. Kuja's dragon was obviously no match for the fastest engine on Gaia, either. If Hilda managed to lift off at least fifteen minutes ahead of the sorcerer, he would never be able to catch up with her.

The teleporters in the palace didn't operate at her command, which meant that the only route to the dock led from the outside, through the natural opening in the west wall of the cave. Hilda knew she would have to cross the canyon first, walk around the steep palace hill, and then climb the slope to get to the entrance. The plan was hazardous, yet not hopeless. According to the maps she had found in the library, the path itself shouldn't turn out too difficult. A trek through the desert, no matter how dangerous, would only take her up to three hours. Afterwards, she would have to avoid the monsters that guarded the airship, and she _seriously_ hoped that she would be able to run fast enough to reach the Hilda Garde before any of them reached _her_. She supposed she could always cast a Confusion spell or two, just to buy her some time.

In any case, it was unreasonable to worry about the beasts right now, when she was still stuck in her room, at least eighty feet above the ground, and her single escape route led through the window. Perhaps a professional circus artist would have a fair chance of scrambling down unscathed, using only occasional stone formations for support, but Hilda was not an acrobat, just a delicate lady in her late thirties. She hadn't climbed trees since she had been five or six, and as far as she was concerned, it had never been her favorite pastime. Sliding down from such a high cliff would surely prove to be much more difficult than reaching the top of an old willow in her parents' garden. The canyon walls were almost perfectly vertical, spotted with some cracks and bumps in a few places, but still far too flat for her taste. Nevertheless, Hilda's determination overcame her fear. The prospect of breaking her neck in a few minutes didn't seem quite so appealing, but she _had_ to get down, no matter what.

Having finally tied the curtains together, Hilda attached her substitute rope to one of the bed's posters and gave it an experimental tug, then another one, until she was pulling with all her might. It appeared that the knots and the fabrics were going to support her weight. She let out a rather premature, yet very much needed sigh of relief. The mismatched line still looked pathetic and far from safe, but on a plus side, the materials it had been made from were both durable _and_ soft, so she probably wouldn't skin her palms on her way down.

Hilda's other preparations were almost complete by now. She wore flat shoes and the simplest dress she had been able to find in her wardrobe. The garment was light and didn't have a corset, though of course it had to suffer some additional adjustments: Hilda had unstitched the long, decorative hem, so that it wouldn't drag in the sand, restricting her movements. As a result, the dress became somewhat indecent, a bit too revealing for a woman of her position—yet given the circumstances, the regent's wife couldn't care less. She wished she had remembered to bring a pair of leather britches with her, or something equally practical, but several weeks ago she hadn't even _imagined_ that she would be forced to climb canyon walls at some point in her travels.

There was no need to carry any luggage, except for a small water-skin attached to her hip. If anything managed to kill her, it surely wouldn't be heat, thirst, or getting lost on her linear path, but the hungry monsters that lurked among the dunes. Water and food were in fact the last of Hilda's worries. She could do without them during her short trek through the desert, and as for the much longer journey home, she was fairly certain that the Hilda Garde's hold wasn't empty. After all, Kuja used Cid's masterpiece from time to time, which meant that some of the most durable supplies, like wine, potatoes or dried meat, were never fully unloaded, for convenience's sake. Even in the very unlikely event that the airship had been cleaned out of all provisions, however, Hilda believed she would still be able to survive crossing the ocean on an empty stomach, before she managed to reach the Mist Continent and seek some help.

_Some help_ was definitely something Hilda could use right now, as well, but unfortunately she was entirely on her own at the moment. The elegant, porcelain clock next to her dresser had struck noon about three quarters ago. It was time to move, then. She had purposely chosen midday, the most unforgiving time of the day, when the temperature became unbearable; not because she wanted her escape to be more exhausting than necessary, but because she figured that even the monsters had their limits. She hoped that no predators would be so stupid as to hunt their pray in this stifling heat.

Hilda was right, of course—after a fashion. It was true that the sun at its zenith forced the majority of desert creatures into hiding—but it didn't make them any less deadly, and she had yet to realize that.

Still unaware of the real extent of the danger she was putting herself into, the woman walked up to the window and threw out the loose end of her line. It fell almost all the way down to the ground, stopping but a few ells above the bottom of the canyon. Hilda had regulated the rope's length carefully. She didn't want to jump and sprain her ankle by some unfortunate accident… assuming she hadn't managed to break her spine earlier.

She closed her eyes and concentrated, half-reciting, half-singing a well-known formula under her breath. A few moments later the spell washed over her, enveloping her in a invisible barrier, strengthening the muscles, making her skin rough and harder to injure. Her mind felt clearer, too, protected against any mental assaults. Hilda paused to steal an apprehensive glance at the ground below, and then cast Float for good measure. The charm couldn't make her totally weightless, she knew, but it would hopefully cushion her fall if she—gods forbid—let go of the rope, or if the curtains actually snapped under her weight.

Well, that was it, the time to test her courage. Hilda took a deep breath and grasped the soft material in both hands, so tightly that her knuckles instantly turned white. _At least the gravity is going to be partially on my side_, she thought humorlessly; _because sliding down is surely easier than climbing up._ Swallowing her fear and hesitation, she put her legs over the windowsill, lowered herself a bit and hung over the precipice.

She had never been very afraid of heights before, never dreaded to lean over the railing of a flying airship, for example… but _this_ was different. There was no steady ground under her feet, no balustrade between her and the sheer drop. She could hardly find any support for her legs, and it forced her to rely mostly on her arms, which soon began to tremble with effort. She didn't even have to remind herself not to look down; she was far too focused on her white fingers, desperately clutching the makeshift rope. Every single foot that brought her closer to the ground was a blessing, but also a considerable challenge—and yet she moved quite fast, without freezing, unwilling to prolong the unpleasant experience.

Somewhere along the way, the loose dress she wore got caught on a rock. Hilda didn't dare to use one of her hands to pull it free; she merely clenched her teeth and continued down, even when she heard the sound of the material being torn. It was nowhere near as loud as the sound of her own heartbeat drumming in her ears.

She found herself beyond _relieved_ the moment the tips of her shoes finally touched the hard ground, and then drifted upwards, repelled by the floating charm. It felt wonderful to be alive and unharmed, except for the slightly sore palms and numb arms; a minor discomfort, really, compared to such merry alternatives as having the Black Mages scrape her brains off the rocks. Shaking herself from this disturbing image, Hilda broke the levitation spell and landed on the bottom of the canyon.

She gazed down while she rubbed her limbs to restore the circulation in them. Her dress had a new, fashionable slit to the side—'fashionable' for a low-class actress, that is. Cid would have surely found the adjustment alluring, she noticed, a hint of dry amusement creeping into her thoughts. Besides, it also gave her the haggard appearance of a woman who had gone through a _lot_ during her capture. If she returned to Lindblum looking like this, perhaps her absence during the outbreak of the war would be forgiven more easily; not that it really mattered. She couldn't care less about the ruined dress, either. She had more pressing worries at the moment. The real challenge was going to start soon.

Hilda risked a quick glance at the window high above her head, the closest entrance to the safe room she had just left. She knew, instantly, that climbing all the way up was impossible, there would be no point in even _trying_; she lacked basic skills and the necessary physical strength. The realization sent a powerful shiver down her spine, yet it also made her feel oddly calm at the same time. The decisive step had already been taken; there was simply no turning back now. She would either have to cross the desert or die.

Determined but not desperate, Hilda began to walk.

The bottom of the gorge was still and quiet, almost suspiciously so. Not a single thing moved in the distance, apart from the flickering, rarefied air at the horizon, where the ravine rose to change into an open desert. The steep walls, which had given Hilda so much trouble earlier, provided a merciful shade, allowing a few pathetic, sickly lichen to weave through the rocks. There were no other signs of life in sight, and the entire landscape had an empty, surrealistic, not to mention slightly morbid look. The absence of any hostile creatures was soothing, though. Hilda's heartbeat slowed down to a normal rate, and she found herself feeling a little more confident about her current endeavor.

Despite the heat, she was able to walk relatively fast. The floor of the valley was composed mostly of slate and gravel, so it provided a solid support for the woman's shoes, sparing her the trouble of having to plough through the sand all the time. Fifteen minutes later, however, the path began to curve upwards, and the rocky ground was gradually replaced with rivers of golden grain. The temperature grew as well, since the walls were offering less cover now. Hilda knew she would reach the outer desert soon. It both thrilled and frightened her.

The landscape didn't seem as flat as before, once her eyes had become accustomed to the view. She began to notice large depressions in the sand, scattered across the area in a haphazard fashion, each of them shallow, yet with a diameter of at least fifteen feet. They looked harmless enough, but Hilda made sure to give every single hole a wide berth. What were they, anyway? Pits of quicksand?

The craters grew in abundance after she had finally left the canyon. Avoiding them turned out to be more difficult than expected, but not entirely impossible. Hilda tried to keep to the rocks at the base of the palace hill, venturing to the open sand only when it became necessary. She figured she would be perfectly safe, as long as she managed to maintain a reliable distance between herself and the suspicious pitfalls.

It was a wrong assumption, though.

Suddenly, the sand in one of the hollows bulged, just like a sail ballooned from a strong gust of wind. Hilda saw the mound _move_, speed straight towards her at an alarming rate, as if there was a giant mole burrowing its way under the surface—but of course no regular mole could be _that_ huge and _that_ fast.

She cried out in fright when the sand exploded. An enormous pair of pincers shot upwards, followed by a giant, monstrous body of its owner. Hilda managed not to lose her cold blood at once; instinctively reaching for her dagger, she threw the other hand in front of her and shouted the first spell that came to her mind. It was supposed to blind the attacker and give her a few moments to rethink her next move, but the magic merely washed over the creature, not even slowing its approach. Hilda felt herself stiffen in sheer terror—and yet she didn't run, knowing all too well that it was _useless_, that she couldn't fight with her blade alone, that she would soon be torn apart by these gigantic claws–

"Get down, _now_!"

_Kuja's voice_, she realized with no small amount of surprise; and it sounded so harsh and _urgent_—but before she could even stir, a powerful blow to the shoulder sent her tumbling to the ground. Hilda hissed in pain as her elbows hit the sand, but she didn't close her eyes. She saw the young man rush past her, and for a second she was certain that he would simply charge at the monster, but then he jumped to the side, one arm pulled back, fingers spread in an odd gesture–

She didn't understand a word of the shouted incantation, but its results were spectacular. The sand around the beast erupted like a dry geyser, revealing the creature's full size and shape. Hilda instantly wished she had averted her gaze, because it wasn't a sight she was likely to forget soon, if ever. Paralyzed with revulsion but still unable to look away, she felt a chilling brush of electricity against her spine. A moment later, the exposed monster was hit by a thunderbolt. Its pincers twitched helplessly, shrouded by a cloud of settling dust, and then finally fell down.

Hilda choked on a breath she didn't know she had been holding. She didn't trust her own legs yet, so she remained on the ground, trying hard to keep herself from trembling. Her mind, on the other hand, was startlingly clear. She understood what had just happened, how close she had been to dying. She had thought her magic would be enough to protect her, but such a huge, agile monster wasn't something she could have handled on her own. If it hadn't been for Kuja, her blood would be staining the sand right now—it was as simple as that.

She finally pushed herself into a sitting position and looked up. The white-haired sorcerer stood a bit to the right, breathing heavily. He paid no attention to the silent woman, let alone to the macabre pile of charred flesh in front of him. Since it was nearly impossible for a single spell to exhaust him so, there must have been another reason for this sudden fatigue. Could it be that he had just _run_ all the way here, from the moment he had noticed her escape? Hilda's eyes widened at the possibility, yet she was wise enough not to ask. After all, if he hadn't arrived so quickly… if he hadn't pushed her forcefully out of the monster's way…

There was probably no significance to his haste other than that he had still some use for her, as a _living_ hostage—though of course it didn't change the fact that she now owned her life to the very man who had murdered her crew not such a long time ago. The irony wasn't lost on Hilda, and she could only stare at her so-called rescuer, trying to decide if she should fight against the unwanted feelings of relief and gratitude.

Kuja straightened himself up at last, turning around to meet the woman's confused gaze.

"Brilliant," he hissed, sounding far from his usual, artificially polite self. Each word was meant to sting; there was real fury in his voice. "Just _what_ were you trying to accomplish? There are million other ways to kill yourself, I assure you. Next time, could you _please_ spare me the involvement?"

Hilda flinched and averted her eyes. The mockery was making her sick, partially because she couldn't defend herself with equally malicious words, not after he had just saved her life. "I was aware of the risk," she said quietly. "It seems that I have underestimated it, though."

"'Underestimated'…?" The muscles of Kuja's jaws twitched slightly; he struggled to keep his tone even. "The Kiera Desert is swarming with monsters, haven't I warned you enough? Why would you do something so foolish? You couldn't have possibly believed that you were going to _succeed_, could you?" Hilda didn't say a word in reply. "Why, this is ridiculous! I swear, even my puppets are smarter than to venture out here!"

Hilda's fingers clenched into the golden sand. Kuja had _no right whatsoever_ to accuse her of foolishness, she thought, since it was _his_ fault that she was here, in the middle of the desert, desperately trying to return home after he had kidnapped her—but there was no use in trying to explain this to him, was there? He wouldn't sympathize, because he couldn't think about anything else than himself. _Her_ suffering didn't matter; it was all about _his_ needs, _his_ obscure goals…

She looked up for the second time, meeting a pair of angry eyes. "You just don't understand a thing, do you?" She didn't mean to sound so sad and exhausted, but she couldn't help it. The adrenaline had already started to evaporate, leaving her in a state of mild apathy. "I _had_ to try. Even if the odds were against me, I couldn't just sit there with my arms folded. Do you find it so _strange_ that people would fight for their freedom, regardless of the cost?"

The silence that fell after her words seemed almost unnatural. Hilda had expected the man to snarl at her, utter yet another cutting remark, but there was no such reaction. Kuja's expression became blank and unreadable. He just stared back at her, completely frozen, and in a way it struck her as being much more unnerving than his earlier disdain.

"I told you there was no escaping from this place," he said at last, taking a few steps forward, until he stood directly in front of the sitting woman. There was an edge of finality to his voice. "Get up. It won't be long before other Antlions decide to attack us, and I don't feel like dealing with more of them today."

Hilda had to agree that—under these circumstances—returning to the palace sounded like a good idea. Now that the sorcerer was here, she wasn't too concerned about the monsters, but the combination of heat, shock and fatigue was slowly taking its toll on her body. Ignoring the pain in her bruised shoulder, she struggled back to her feet. Kuja made no attempt to help her, and she could suddenly see why.

In a calm voice, she pointed out, "You are bleeding."

The young man looked down at his hand without a single word; his pale lips tightening into a sour grimace. "That's what I get for acting chivalrous," he swore under his breath. "I should've never bothered running after you."

They were both silent for a moment, but then, much to her own surprise, Hilda found herself saying, "…Let me have a look." As soon as the offer left her mouth, though, she hesitated. What reason did she have to help this man? Was it some misplaced gratitude? Or the oath she had taken many years ago, as a White Mage, to assist everyone in need, regardless of who they were?

Kuja's injury wasn't serious, it probably just stung a bit, but it had to be treated all the same, unless he wanted to risk an infection. Hilda felt slightly lightheaded, yet she knew that casting a basic healing spell wasn't beyond her capabilities. Having finally made up her mind, she grasped the man's fingers in one steady, deliberate motion, intent on closing the cut with her magic.

"That's _enough_." Kuja snatched his hand away before she could even blink.

"You should not leave even minor wounds unattended," she opposed, bewildered by her own serenity. "I can heal that, you know."

"Mind your own business," he snapped at once. "So can I."

Kuja's declaration wasn't just a childish fit of pique—it seemed that he really didn't need her help, after all. Hilda couldn't understand the formula the sorcerer used, as his lips barely even moved to form a few, most probably Terran words, but she felt his aura shift for a second, the moment the spell was released.

"I have never seen anyone conjure a thunderbolt out of thin air," she said, meeting his blue eyes. "Is this what your Terran magic—Black Magic—usually looks like?"

"Yes."

"And this?"

"This?" Kuja raised his mended, if still a bit bloodied hand to their eye level. "This isn't much different from the charms you use," as he spoke, his fingers clenched into a fist and the arm fell down. "Just a simple spell for lowering the blood pressure, to soothe the pain and speed up the healing."

Hilda shook her head. "I did not even see that monster touch you."

"It wasn't the monster," the man answered, measuring her with a cold stare, unpleasant yet not so frightfully hostile as before. "You were extremely lucky that one of the puppets noticed your escape and had the brains to inform me about it. There was so little time left that I practically had to jump out of that window. A few seconds longer, and I wouldn't have even been able to gather enough of your remains to send them back to your husband," he finished icily. "Do you know what the Antlions _do_ to their prey?"

"No, and I believe I do not wish to know." A plain 'thank you' still wouldn't leave Hilda's mouth—not when the man insisted on treating her so ruthlessly. She appreciated his haste and the effort, but that didn't stop her from hating his callousness.

There was a brief, awkward silence between them, finally broken by the sorcerer's voice: "As you wish. Are we quite finished here?" His words were tinged with the usual sarcasm. Hilda nodded. "Excellent, let's go."

Kuja raised his clean, uninjured hand to his mouth and whistled, loud enough to attract every beast in their immediate vicinity. Hilda knew better than to act surprised, though, because she had already seen him do an identical thing, all those weeks ago, when they had first reached the Outer Continent.

"Does this mean that we are both going to fly on your dragon?" she asked uncertainly, looking up at the empty sky.

"My dragoness," Kuja corrected matter-of-factly. "Why, Lady Hilda, if the prospect of flying doesn't appeal to you, you're always free to climb all the way back to your chamber. Or would you rather cross the desert on foot, alone, as you have previously intended? I assure you, that can be arranged."

She shot him a scathing glare. "Your sense of humor is as charming as ever, I see."

"Oh?" He narrowed his eyes at her. "Funny, but I don't even recall joking."

"Stop it," she spat, and then tensed when she saw a large shadow drop out of the sky. "I honestly do not think that I can…"

"Don't be ridiculous." The unamused man stepped in front of her, colorless hair sliding down his shoulders as he shook his head. "You can't do _what_, exactly? Are you trying to tell me that you've acquired a sudden fear of heights? After you pulled that acrobatic stunt only a short while ago?"

Hilda clenched her teeth, deciding it would be wiser not to reply, lest she wished to engage in another verbal duel with Kuja. It wasn't about rising into the air at all, but about the mount itself. She watched, resignedly, as the white dragoness landed at a short distance ahead of them; the impressive, outstretched wings making her appear bigger than she already was. The beast snorted at the sorcerer, completely ignored the woman by his side and began to twist her neck to sniff at the Antlion, instead—showing so much interest in the carcass that the whole scene turned out far from comforting.

Kuja said something in his odd, melodic language, and then looked back at his prisoner. "Come."

Swallowing her unease, Hilda slowly walked forward, until she found herself at an arm's length from the dragoness. As a matter of fact, she was much more terrified of being left behind in the desert than approaching the dangerous creature. While it was true that Kuja had just put some effort into saving her life, she wasn't sure if she should dismiss his earlier threat as a mere joke. He could be rather unpredictable as times, and she suspected that such a vile change of mind wasn't totally beneath him. He might really abandon her if she didn't hurry.

"The beast is too tall and wears no saddle," she said, turning her questioning eyes to the younger man. "How I am supposed to climb onto her back without a proper stirrup?"

"With my help, of course." Kuja's expression was unreadable. "Just grab the feathers and pull yourself up."

Before she could even say a word in protest, or at least suggest casting yet another Float spell, there was a set of thin, surprisingly strong fingers wrapped around her waist, snatching her off the ground as if she were weightless. A moment later, Kuja all but tossed her onto his mount. Hilda had the presence of mind to follow the man's earlier advice—she caught two handfuls of feathers and used the momentum to heave herself higher, until she was sitting safely on top of the beast's back. Thankfully, the dragoness seemed quite unperturbed by the fact that some petty human had the sheer audacity to kick her sides and ruffle her plumes. She shuddered yet stayed in place, without trying to get rid of, devour, or worse still, abduct the reluctant rider into the air.

Hilda was so taken aback by the sudden turn of events that she missed the exact moment in which Kuja also jumped onto his mount. She drew a sharp breath only when she felt one of his arms slide across her stomach, pulling her back into an awkward embrace.

"What… what are you doing?" she managed uncertainly, trying to twist her neck to look the man into the eye.

"Does this make you too uncomfortable?" Kuja's voice was chilly; he didn't bother to saturate his words with the usual amount of mock respect. "I can let go of you this instant, if you wish, but then I won't be able to assure your safety after we rise into the air."

Hilda forced herself to reply as calmly as she could, "I see. In that case, I have no objections."

"I'm glad to hear your common sense is back, Lady Hilda," the sorcerer said, once again making to attempt to conceal the sarcasm. Hilda didn't try to argue. Arguing with Kuja would be pointless, especially in her current position.

She felt her throat clench painfully the second the man turned his head away and let out a low whistle. The dragoness reacted almost at once, spreading her wings and pushing herself off the ground in one gentle, surprisingly nimble leap.

* * *

The ride turned out nowhere near as bad as Hilda had previously imagined. After her initial shock had worn off, she found herself almost enjoying the new experience. They were flying quite fast, yet not too high above the ground, which was a small relief. Charcoal's swift movements couldn't be compared to a chocobo's springy jogtrot, because there was no shaking, no sickeningly abrupt turns. It would be impossible to tell they were moving if it hadn't been for the wind on their faces, and on a hot day like this, the breeze was very much appreciated. Hilda felt tempted to close her eyes and simply relax, until she forgot all her worries, along with the terror she had experienced today.

Kuja smelled of honey, cinnamon and feathers. He might have been a ruthless, dangerous man, but it didn't stop her from feeling secure with one of his arms wrapped around her waist. She feared slipping off the beast's back more than she feared these fingers, so warm and gentle, and by no means seeking to take advantage of their current closeness. It seemed strange how absurdly proper this man could be at times, underneath the layer of artificial politeness. Perhaps he simply preferred to distance himself from everyone and everything. Hilda wondered if there was a woman whom he would willingly hold like this, a woman he actually liked, maybe even loved. It brought her one step short of fanaticizing how would it feel to wake up in these arms, after a night filled with something else than idle chatter…

Her imagination was taking her too far, she realized, feeling ashamed and ridiculous all of sudden. She was a married lady herself, which made such fantasies entirely indecent, and besides, it just wouldn't do to paint _this _man as some sort of a desirable hero, when he was everything but one. He was probably incapable of truly loving anyone, just as there was no woman who could ever break through his selfish arrogance. No, he had to be completely unreachable.

"A Gil for your thoughts, Lady Hilda."

She startled at the sound of Kuja's voice and at the question itself, already feeling her cheeks warm up a bit. At that moment, she was particularly glad the younger man could neither read her mind nor see her blush, and she struggled to make sure he wouldn't be able to pick up on her embarrassment.

"I did not realize that you valued my thoughts so lowly," she answered almost without a pause, relieved because no unnatural tones had crept into these words.

"Oh?" Kuja chuckled behind her back. "They must be rather interesting, if you're willing to bargain over the price. How about ten thousand Gil, then? Will that be enough?" It seemed that he had finally decided to drop the hostility, and was once again acting the part of a perfect gentleman. It was somewhat reassuring to see that at least his usual talkativeness was back. Maybe he simply chose to hide his anger, or he had really got over it. Hilda was glad either way.

"It certainly sounds like a better offer, but I am afraid you would be only wasting your money." She hesitated, and then, unable to tell the man the truth, she spoke about the first thing that came to her mind, which just happened to be the soft feathers between her fingers. "I was merely wondering about the origins of your mount. Never before had I seen such a beast, that is, not until I met you. Where did you get it in the first place?"

"It's a Silver Dragon. They can be found only on Terra."

"I see. I figured that much."

"Actually," the sorcerer went on in a calm, matter-of-fact manner, "they're not what you might call domestic creatures, but it's possible to tame them if you're patient enough. They're strong, loyal, not to mention smarter than they seem. It makes them excellent companions."

Hilda nodded, lowering her gaze to the beast's back. "Do your people always ride them, just like we ride on chocobos?"

It was supposed to be nothing but an innocent question on her part, but like so many times before, she had completely misjudged the consequences, failed to predict Kuja's reaction. He didn't say a thing at first, nor did he lose his self-composure—and yet she instantly felt him stiffen behind her back, and the fingers around her waist twitched slightly. She tensed as well, knowing that something was wrong without a single glance at the man's face, even before he opened his mouth to reply.

"There's no such thing as 'my people'." His voice sounded more than just strange, so cold and devoid of emotion that it nearly made the older woman shiver. It was the kind of answer that clearly warned her against pushing the subject any further, and yet she couldn't help herself, suddenly overcome by some morbid curiosity.

"What do you mean by this?"

"Don't," he cut her short.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Don't ask me any questions about Terra," he specified at last, still in this odd, hollow voice that made her so uncomfortable.

"I do not understand–"

"I don't care." Anger had finally crept into his tone. "Do me a favor and drop this little inquiry of yours, or I won't hesitate to drop you to the ground."

Perhaps with any other man it would have been just an empty, unoriginal threat, but it sounded real enough in Kuja's case. Hilda snapped her mouth shut, suddenly reluctant to test her captor's patience, which she must have seriously strained by now, half-willingly or not. She sat frozen in the man's loose embrace, digging her rigid fingers into Charcoal's white feathers, watching the beast's shadow glide across the sand, at least fifty feet below.

She had meant to say, of course, that she didn't understand Kuja's reasons. Ever since she had met him, so many weeks ago, he had been everything _but_ reserved or secretive. Hilda had often caught herself wishing he would spare her many unnecessary pieces of information, because the more ignorant she remained, the safer she felt in his presence. Much to her annoyance, however, the young man had apparently taken quite a liking to discussing even some highly confidential topics with her, from spicy gossip and court scandals to politics and military strategy. He had already told her more than she had ever wanted—or hoped—to know. And on those rare occasions when she had actually wanted to ask him questions, he had never left her without an answer.

Kuja's current behavior struck her as a bit surprising, to say the least. While it wasn't completely unlike him to become cold and distant all of a sudden, he had never forcefully silenced her before, certainly not in this manner. Besides, hadn't he already told her the truth about the Red Moon, or Terra, as she was supposed to call it? The fact that he was born there, the way to reach that place and the horrible plan to assimilate thousands of Gaian souls? It definitely didn't seem like he had ever wanted to keep anything from her… and now it was a taboo subject between them?

Hilda trembled, resisting the sudden, irrational urge to break free from the man's weak grasp. What on Gaia could be so awful, more unpleasant than the things he had already mentioned, that even _he_ was unwilling to talk about it? Or was it merely a matter of personal issues? Ironically enough, during those past few weeks he had revealed her very little, if anything at all, as far as his former life on Terra was concerned. From broken fragments of their many conversations, Hilda had only managed to figure out that he felt oddly resentful towards his homeland, that he never seemed to miss it, and that he had had his reasons to leave.

_What is he running from? _she wondered, staring up at the pale red orb in the sky, until a few moments later the blinding sunlight forced her to drop her gaze. Another possibility hit her then: perhaps he was just like her, unable to return home? Was _that_ the reason behind his startling bitterness? She could only make wild guesses, of course, because it was a question that would most likely forever remain unanswered, unless he chose to tell her himself. She didn't want to test his patience right now, or in the near future.

"Lady Hilda." This time, Kuja's smooth voice didn't really surprise her; after all, she had been thinking about him for the past couple of minutes.

"Yes?"

"You tried to escape because of the things I said yesterday, am I right?"

Hilda took a deep breath, blinking the unexpected tears away, as she was suddenly reminded of her own worries and failures. Why did he have to ask, wasn't it rather obvious? She would have never decided to risk her life if the whole situation hadn't been so helpless, if Kuja had left her at least a shadow of a chance, a way to escape, a promise to return her to her husband, perhaps an opportunity to buy her own freedom. Instead, he kept toying with her, telling her that she would remain his prisoner 'for now'—_forever_?—even though he had no real use for her. Hilda found it simply maddening. She was still terrified by what she had done today, and she realized that she would most probably never try it again, but at the same time the only thing she regretted was that she hadn't managed to succeed.

"I am not asking for your pity," she said at last. "But please, do not pretend that you cannot understand my feelings, or that my actions surprise you so much. It is true I would do everything in my power to return to Lindblum, especially now, given the circumstances."

"Everything?" Kuja echoed and Hilda shivered, suddenly realizing where this discussion could be going. She balled her hands into fists, and yet, much to her credit, her soft voice didn't even tremble.

"You never said what you really wanted from me."

There was a small pause before the young man finally answered, "I don't want anything from you, certainly not in the way you have just implied, intentionally or not. Still, I can't let you go. I'm sure you realize why."

"I swear by the gods that I will not betray any of your secrets."

"I don't believe in your gods, or any gods at all, for that matter, so such an oath would be meaningless to me," Kuja snorted quietly. She could almost feel his breath tickle the skin on the back of her neck. A second later, his grip on her waist tightened slightly and he pulled her closer, though she couldn't guess if it was because of the very sharp turn the dragoness was taking, or because of his next words. "Tell me, are you really so unhappy here? Your situation could have been much worse, I assure you. There are quite a few underground rooms in my palace, each of them not very different from a mere prison cell. I have never shown you the torture chamber, either. It's as well equipped as any other room in this place, only the furniture differs considerably." His tone was calm, serious. He managed to sound threatening without even trying to make any explicit suggestions. "But don't worry, Lady Hilda… I don't want to show you any of these terrible things. I find it strange, myself, but during the past few weeks I've grown almost… fond of your company. You're not a measly rat I want to squash at my feet, and maybe, just maybe, you deserve the best, not the worst of my hospitality. If only you had enough sense to appreciate it, instead of repeatedly cursing my so-called injustice…" He paused, leaning forward, so close that his lips were almost brushing against the woman's ear. Hilda barely noticed the change; she was beyond paralyzed at this point.

"When we first met," Kuja went on; his voice lower than before, yet still commanding full attention, "I decided to make you my guest, not an incapacitated prisoner. I also promised to keep you alive." There was a small, deliberate pause. "Well, to tell you the truth, I tend to break my vows a lot… but I always keep the ones I made to myself. You're safe with me for the time being, unless, of course, you do something foolish again, like the walk across the desert you tried today."

Kuja might have even intended for his words to sound soothing, however, Hilda was far from _comfortable_ at the moment—she felt chilled to the bone, instead, despite the hot, humid day. Charcoal had just made a wide curve around the palace hill, and the frozen woman could already see the entrance to the cave in which her husband's airship was kept. She felt a strong wave of relief, then, and prayed with all her heart for the ride to end—anything to free herself from Kuja's grasp, to put the largest possible distance between them.

The man wasn't finished with her, although he finally leant back as soon as the dragoness' route became straight again.

"Look, Lady Hilda," he said, gesturing at the ground below. "Can you see that hollow in the sand? And another one, over there?" Hilda nodded weakly, still not trusting her voice enough to speak. The sorcerer continued, "They're Antlions' nests. It's their territory. The monsters are mostly blind, but they can sense the vibrations made by the creatures that walk upon the sand, and they're able to pinpoint their victims' location with uncanny accuracy. Only a bug or a small lizard could sneak through this area unnoticed. I'm sure you understand what I'm trying to tell you," Kuja pressed in a calm tone. "Even if you had somehow managed to defeat, or escape the first monster that had attacked you, you still would have never made it, not alone, at least. That's why I suggest you give it up, Lady Lioness." Again, he had dared to call her by that ridiculous name, even though there was nothing humorous about his final words. "For your own sake, do _not_ overstep the boundaries of my hospitality."

Hilda couldn't find a fitting retort to the man's not-quite threat, not-quite request. She didn't suppose that any possible reply would mean a thing, let alone that it was expected from her, so she just followed the sorcerer's example and spent the remaining moments of their ride in heavy silence, stifling a sigh of relief when the dragoness flapped her wings for the last time and dove forward, heading straight for the dark opening of the cave.

The moment the beast came to a definite halt, Kuja let go of Hilda's waist. It was obvious that he didn't want to maintain their physical contact for any longer than necessary, and yet he made no hasty attempt to jump off the dragoness' back, or help the other rider descend to the ground. Hilda felt quite confident that she wouldn't need the man's assistance in sliding down the creature's feathery side, but she remained motionless as well, sensing—very accurately—that the sorcerer was still waiting to tell her something.

"I promise that you will see your husband again," Kuja said after a brief pause, in a voice that sounded startlingly smooth, unmarred by mockery. "Once I'm done with my Gaian affairs, I will let you go."

"Wait…" She drew a sharp breath. "You really…"

"Yes. I really," the man replied, the smoothness of his tone suddenly crumbling. Hilda turned around just in time to see his thin lips twist into an all too familiar smirk. "…Just please note that this is a promise I'm making to _you_, my Lady Lioness."

* * *

**End of Chapter Eleven**

* * *

Author's Notes: Heh. So much for Kuja the valiant rescuer.

The man's behavior may seem a bit 'off' in the first half of this chapter, but I deliberately made him skip all his pleasantries to show that he was genuinely angry with the whole situation. He has a multi-layered personality in this story, as you might have already noticed. He's usually reserved, mocking and deceptive towards other people, wearing a mask of artificial politeness, but sometimes his real face can also be seen – that of a deadly serious, ruthless young man. (For further reference, reread ex. the second part of chapter nine. ;))

Hilda is a fully-fledged White Mage in my story, and similarly to other White Mages in FFIX, she's able to cast spells such as Shell, Protect, Float and Confuse. Too bad these charms become rather ineffective in a fight against an Antlion…

The events of FFIX really take place in year 1700, as was implied in one of the paragraphs above.

Phew, this part sure was long, so it's high time I stopped making things worse by adding my extra ramblings. I know that the length itself cannot recompense for the outrageous delay, but I hope you liked the contents this update—and didn't just fall asleep in the middle of Hilda's exploits or Kuja's uncreative threats. ;) Please review and tell me what you think! It was your feedback, after all, that helped me overcome my writer's block and focus on pushing the story forward!


	12. And Exit Lady Brahne!

Author Notes: Another filler chapter of sorts; a new update for Hilda, I would say. Behind the curtains, Queen Brahne has reluctantly exited the stage, and now it's time for Zorn and Thorn to make their appearance… This part starts in a rather uneventful manner, but things get better towards the end, I promise. :) You'll catch another glimpse of Kuja's darker side, which will be stressed even more in the thirteenth chapter. :)

I offer my sincere thanks to everyone who read and reviewed the last installment, especially my unanimous reviewers, whom I haven't been able contact until now. Thank you so much for your support and your wonderful comments! Now that I know that people are still interested in reading this story, I'm even more motivated to keep going! (Though I think I would've continued writing even without a single review in return, because I love Kuja way too much. :D)

**Sable**, thanks a lot for proofreading this chapter, too!

I hope FFNet isn't going to screw my formatting today. Please, enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter Twelve**

* * *

Nearly two weeks after her failed escape attempt, Hilda went back to sweeping the vast palace corridors with the train of her dress. The previous few days she had spent mostly in bed, sulking in a rather unladylike fashion and eating very little, torn between weeping in anger and cursing her own helplessness. The thing that upset her the most was not the fact that she had so easily wasted her opportunity to break free, but the aching certainty that she had never had a reasonable chance in the first place. She didn't have to rely on Kuja's spiteful remarks to realize that. She had already seen the desert from the dragoness' back, on the day the man had come to her rescue. The whole area around the palace was specked with the Antlions' sand pits. Even if she had managed to defeat the creature that had ambushed her at the beginning, its peers would have torn her to shreds—because avoiding one trap would have meant falling straight into another.

Hilda had eventually come to terms with her defeat, resigning herself to the usual routine in her captor's company. What else could she do? She found her prolonging imprisonment even more unbearable than before, now that the outside world was in turmoil, and she had been so roughly reminded of her weakness… yet there was still a spark of hope burning inside her heart. She had been lucky, after all. Kuja had managed to catch up with her not a second too soon, just before the Antlion's pincers had shot forward. She was alive and unscathed today, if only a bit shaken and somewhat humbled before her unlikely savior. Her situation hadn't improved, but it also hadn't become worse. Perhaps a new, better chance to escape would arise in the next few weeks. For now, however, she had accepted the fact that she wouldn't stop the war, or help Cid in any way—definitely not by gambling with her life in yet another risky endeavor.

* * *

After two months' worth of cruising between her bedroom and the ground floor library, Hilda found herself more than just accustomed to a few deserted hallways in this section of the palace. She probably would have been able to move around even with her eyes closed, and as such, there was really no need to pay attention to her surroundings on this particular afternoon, as she was walking down the corridor with a thin book in her hands, already running her eyes over some rather absorbing passage. The worst thing that could happen to her right now would be to trip and get a bruise or two, but the marble tiles under her feet were perfectly even, and she was not a clumsy person by nature.

She had just cleared a corner without bothering to look up from the small print under her gaze, when she marched into something completely unexpected, a soft yet solid obstacle in her path. She managed to keep her balance and avoid tumbling down to the floor, but judging from a pained 'ooof' and a dull thud that followed it, the other person—_or whatever it was_—had not been so lucky. Hilda immediately looked down, expecting to discover some absent-minded Black Mage, perhaps, no matter how unlikely it would be for any of them to actually bump into her, but when she saw the victim of her carelessness, her shock grew. The little creature sprawled at her feet was surely not one of the mages, even if it had an equally large hat. It wasn't alone, either—there was its almost mirror-image standing to the right, frowning at the fallen twin in concern, and finally helping it stand up.

The term 'twin' seemed quite appropriate, for the two bizarre individuals were extremely similar in appearance. Hilda could distinguish one from another mostly by the black marks painted on their sallow faces, and of course thanks to their clothing, which was identical in style, yet different in color. The creature to the left was clad in a blue jester's outfit, its counterpart—in red. Both barely reached the woman's waist, although the silly hats they wore made them look much taller.

Hilda stared at them in disbelief. As far as she was concerned, she and Kuja were the only sentient inhabitants of this place… unless she counted the mages, of course, but she still had her doubts about their intelligence. Who were these two weird people, then? Yet another 'artificially created beings'? The sorcerer's guests or his prisoners? Enemies or potential allies?

"Watch where you are going, you blind woman!" a masculine, somewhat screechy voice startled her out of her reverie. It belonged to the jester in blue, the one who was currently rubbing his bruised backside.

"Where you are going, you should watch!" his companion echoed instantly. They both sounded more offended than threatening, and distinctly unpleasant, too.

"I apologize, but I did not expect to run across anyone in this place, let alone in such a startling manner," she offered quickly. It was true enough. The Black Mages she occasionally passed in the hallways always gave her a wide, respectful berth. She couldn't imagine trampling on any of them by accident, not even with her nose buried in a book. "Who are you, and what are you doing here?"

"It's rude to ask such personal questions without introducing yourself first," the blue one scoffed.

"Without introducing yourself, to ask such personal questions, rude it is," his mirror image in red added.

She sighed and shook her head. "Perhaps you are right. My name is–"

"We already know your name."

"Your name, we already know."

If anyone was being rude here, it was these two, Hilda decided, narrowing her eyes at the creatures. She was the regent's wife, after all; the First Lady of Lindblum. Assuming that the jesters already knew that, they could as well show her some respect, or at least stop treating her like a fool.

"Demanding an introduction when it is not necessary, and then interrupting a lady is even less polite," she pointed out matter-of-factly, noticing that her words had little effect on the two small men. She could swear that there was something familiar about their faces and their outfits. Their awkward speech mannerisms also stirred a distant memory within her. She must have met them before, but where?

"We were merely pointing out the obvious," came the defensive reply.

"Pointing out the obvious, we were."

"I see," Hilda huffed in irritation. "Well, now that at least one part of the formalities is over, are you not going to answer my question at last?"

The jesters looked at each other, and then spoke at once, in perfect unison, "I am Zorn, and this is my brother, Thorn."

"Thorn I am, and my brother, Zorn, this is."

Zorn and Thorn—_of course_. Lady Brahne's servants. Hilda could suddenly remember where she had seen their silly hats for the first time. It had been nearly a year ago at the Alexandrian castle, at the masquerade the queen had organized for the princess' fifteenth birthday. Hilda had attended the ball together with her husband. She had noticed the two clowns back then, and even expressed her surprise, to Cid, at the fact that they would keep to the shadows during the whole event, instead of mixing with the crowd and trying to entertain the guests.

"You two are Queen Brahne's servants, are you not?" she asked calmly, though at the same time her mind was whirling around the possible implications behind the jesters' presence. Could it mean that the Alexandrian ruler knew about Kuja's palace on the Outer Continent, about the fact that he held Hilda captive?

The two men looked at each other uneasily.

"We used to serve Her Majesty once, but we serve her no longer," Zorn finally said.

"No longer we serve her, that we do not."

"Why?" she asked. "Did you betray your queen for Kuja?"

"We have always served Master Kuja first and foremost."

Thorn nodded to confirm this. "First and foremost, Master Kuja we have always served."

"Yet he gave us to Queen Brahne and told us to obey her orders," his comrade supplied.

"To obey her orders, he told us."

"Oh?" Hilda tilted her head to the side, brushing a few loose strands of blond hair from her narrowed eyes. "Then what are you doing here, so far away from the Alexandrian court? Does 'Master Kuja' no longer want you to obey them?" It was the first—and the last time—she would call him _that_, mockingly or not.

Once again, the clowns exchanged awkward glances.

"No, of course not. Queen Brahne is dead."

"Dead Queen Brahne is. Miss her we will."

"Yes, we will miss her."

Hilda stared at the jesters in shock. Nothing, not even the most disturbing news she had heard from Kuja during the past few months, concerning the Gaian war and Terra's existence, could have prepared her for _that_ sort of revelation.

"I… I cannot believe my own ears," she managed at last, her fingers clutching at the book she still held in her grasp, all color drained from her face. "You are not lying about this, are you? When and how did this happen?"

"Has the Master not told you about it?" Zorn asked slowly.

"Told you about it, he has not?"

"He has not told me anything," Hilda managed through clenched teeth. "Answer me! Did the queen die in battle?"

"In battle… yes. You can certainly say that."

"Say that you certainly can. Yes, in battle she died."

The jesters' refusal to share any substantial piece of information with her, as well as their inability to communicate properly, was already starting to grate on her nerves. She took a deep breath to calm herself down, before continuing, "A battle against which forces? Lindblum, perhaps?"

There was a long pause filled with more wordless consultations.

"Well, it was like this–" Zorn began at last, but he never got the chance to finish, because it was exactly at that moment that a new speaker chose to cut in.

"You two morons definitely talk too much."

Hilda didn't jump at the sound of Kuja's voice, and yet she couldn't suppress a small shudder: the man's words were like a set of poisonous needles cutting into her back, even if the scorn they contained wasn't directed at her, but at the twin jesters who cringed and instantly drew back. The scared duo obviously hadn't seen or heard the sorcerer approach until now, either, not that it was any surprise, given the man's eerie ability to move as silently as a wraith, even in his favorite pair of steel-fitted boots.

Hilda turned around. She wanted to skip straight to the point, repeat her earlier question about the battle, but it took a single glance at her captor to make her hesitate. Kuja stood with his left hand propped against his hip, cold and unsmiling, staring down at the twins as if they were a couple of ugly insects, or worse. She could see clear contempt written on his face, and the customary, mocking smirk was absent, which only served to emphasize the true level of his malice. This pose, combined with the tone the man had used a moment ago, was an unpleasant reminder of what he _could_ be like towards other people, as long as he didn't bother to keep up his charming façade. It actually made Hilda wonder how _nice_ he had always been to her—when he could have as well been _this_ spiteful all the time, instead.

"Master, forgive us," Zorn moaned behind her back, the bells on his hat ringing as he shook his head frantically. "You did not forbid us to talk to your prisoner" –Hilda winced at the form of address– "so we thought it was alright to tell her about Her Majesty's death!"

"To talk to your prisoner, forbid us, you did not," Thorn echoed in an equally quavering voice. "To tell her about Her Majesty's death, therefore, alright we thought!"

Kuja's expression could convince even Hilda to take a step back, yet she only pressed her lips together and stood her ground, refusing to become so easily intimidated by a mere pair of cornflower eyes.

"That's enough," he said softly, but it was the kind of softness associated with a panther ready to strike. "I remember giving you both some tasks earlier this morning. Are you finished with them already?"

"N-no, Master Kuja."

"Not yet, no."

Kuja tilted his head to the side. "Then what are you still doing here?"

His question was not a question at all, and the two smaller men would have been true fools not to realize that. They scrambled to escape the sorcerer's wrath, nearly tripping over their own legs as they fled down the corridor, back in the direction where they had come from, if only to avoid passing their master. The jesters' speed was remarkable; a few moments later even the sound of their bells died down, leaving behind two quiet people standing alone in the middle of an empty hallway.

Hilda was the first one to speak. "Why did you keep such an important piece of information from me?" she demanded coolly.

Kuja's gaze remained fixed on the spot his servants had just vacated. He made no effort to either lash out at the woman with his nonchalant mockery, or defend himself against her accusation. Hilda figured it wasn't for the reason that he had suddenly lost his wits, or felt uncharacteristically remorseful. No, instead of trying to form an appropriate apology, the sorcerer was probably waiting for his anger to pass, because when he finally looked up to address her, his voice sounded genuinely calm, free of the dangerous edge it held before.

"It's never been my intention to keep anything from you, my lady," he said with a smile. "I merely didn't have enough time to share the news with you."

"You had plenty of time, I believe," she contradicted at once.

Kuja arched an eyebrow in mock concern. "Pardon me for pointing it out," he explained, "but you spent nearly two weeks locked in your room, recovering from your little adventure in the desert. I thought it would be unwise to trouble you further, as you still seemed a bit too flustered to handle yet another potentially shocking conversation with me."

Hilda tensed at the man's words, unable to conceal the traitorous blush of embarrassment that had crept into her pale cheeks. "During the past week we have been seeing each other almost everyday, though," she retorted. "Upset or not, you realize I would have wanted to know of something equally important straight away?"

"But of course, Lady Hilda," the sorcerer said smoothly, lowering his head in feigned shame. "I shall remember that from now on." Hilda frowned, not in the slightest degree entertained by the display.

"For how long have I been kept in the dark?"

"Brahne died but a few days ago, just before I returned to the palace."

"I see," she said. Kuja's cheerful expression, so unfitted for the grave matter they were discussing, was making her stomach churn, yet she forced herself to continue, "Well then, since you are always so well-informed about everything, I take it that you are familiar with all sort of details concerning the queen's death. Are you going to enlighten me quickly, I wonder, or will I have to pry every single answer from your mouth?"

She knew that using such bold words around her captor could be risky, but at least her sarcasm hit the right note, reaching the desired effect where dozens of other remarks might have failed. As soon as the man's ringing laughter had faded, he regarded her with a new gleam in his eye—she caught a barely visible glimpse of something akin to respect, maybe even admiration, sparkling underneath the ever-present amusement.

"You really got me there, Lady Hilda," he admitted merrily, folding his arms across his chest. "It would be quite unfair to tease you any longer, wouldn't it?" He paused. "Still, I must warn you—asking me for the truth is not always a good idea. You may not like the details of our poor queen's fate."

She stared at him in suspicion, surprised to see him act so serious all of a sudden, despite the mocking emphasis he had put on the woman's title. "What do you mean?"

"I know what answers you would like to hear the most," he replied calmly, "but I'm afraid I can't give them to you. Brahne wasn't defeated by your husband, nor was her army obliterated by his soldiers."

"The jesters told me that there had been a battle."

The corners of Kuja's lips twitched once again, but his new smile was an entirely cold one. Not even trying to maintain the usual air of playful innocence, he said, "Calling it a battle was quite an overstatement on their part. I'd say it was more of a swift massacre."

A chilly shiver ran down her spine. "Please, explain."

"As you wish," the man spoke after a brief pause. "I won't lie to you. I was there when the greedy fool met her ugly end. I saw it happen. I _made_ it happen." Hilda froze, once again refusing to believe her ears. The man must have noticed the drastic change in her expression, and yet his tone didn't even waver. "Yes, you've heard me correctly. I'm the one responsible for the queen's not quite premature demise, although she didn't die exactly by my hand. This I _might_ have regretted under different circumstances, I guess, but fortunately the spectacle turned out sufficiently entertaining in the end."

Hilda stared at the young sorcerer in utter shock—the book she had intended to take to her room pressed against her abdomen in a white-knuckled grip. She felt as if she were dreaming, a bit dizzy and disconnected, ready to wake up from her nightmare any time now. This _couldn't_ be real! Kuja couldn't have just casually informed her that he had killed Lady Brahne, and somehow managed to wipe out a significant portion of an _allied_ army, too, if she were to trust his earlier words about the massacre.

She found all of this insanely difficult to believe, and yet… hadn't she already spent enough time in this man's company to realize that he was capable of nearly everything? That when it came to him, even such an outrageous, appalling deed seemed possible?

"Well then, my lady?" Kuja's low voice startled Hilda out of her reverie. "Have you already decided whether to believe me or not?"

It took her a considerably long moment to form a fitting reply, "If what you say is indeed true, then you are the most rotten man I have ever met."

She couldn't have kept herself from uttering these words out loud, even if it meant becoming the next target of Kuja's wrath. He _deserved_ to hear them, no matter what.

The man didn't appear to be angry or offended, though. "A rotten man I may be," he said, shaking his head with a barely pronounced smirk, "and I honestly don't care about your opinion either way. Still, I find it rather… disappointing that you would try to pass the condemning verdict before you have heard the entire story."

Hilda clenched her teeth. Listening to Kuja made her _sick_, but of course she wanted to know what exactly had happened to the Alexandrian queen, so she had to allow him to continue. "How am I supposed not to judge you on the basis of that you've just told me?" she asked coldly. "A murder remains a murder, regardless of the situation. Your absolute lack of remorse doesn't seem very comforting, either."

"At this moment, you're not the most appropriate person to preach at me about remorse, Lady Hilda," came the man's soft reply. "Please, spare me your righteous indignation or the crocodile tears you're willing to shed for Brahne. Would you bewail her so if she had been killed by one of your husband's soldiers, perhaps by the regent himself, in defense of your lovely country?"

Hilda narrowed her eyes at the sorcerer. He did have a point, of course—and a good one, too. It wasn't as if she had any particularly warm feelings towards Lady Brahne, especially in the light of recent events. The queen had become a ruthless aggressor; she had played a willing part in Kuja's machinations, the war he deemed necessary for Terra's sake. Nevertheless, her death was still a blow. Hilda couldn't help but view it as the collapse of some long-established order—the order ruined by no one else than the person who was currently standing in front of her.

"Don't you dare judge me by your own standards," she said harshly. "I once used to count Lady Brahne among my friends—but this is beside the point right now, is it not? You did not kill her in self-defense."

"Didn't I?" The white-haired man tilted his head forward, unfolding one of his arms and raising it to his mouth, with his thumb absently brushing the bottom of his chin. A small smile was playing at the corners of his lips, partially hidden from view by his curled fingers. "As a matter of fact, I _was_ defending myself against her assault."

Hilda didn't find the sorcerer's smug expression very amusing, but the certainty in his voice made her think twice before dismissing his declaration as a silly joke. "I beg your pardon?"

He stifled a sigh. "A few minutes ago, if I remember correctly, you demanded that I tell you the whole story without any extra delays on my part—and I was willing to do just that, yet you keep interrupting me all the time." His scolding was of course dripping with mockery.

"Fine," she retorted dryly. "Go ahead and finish your tale, I will try not to interrupt you anymore. I doubt anything you might say at this point could manage to surprise me." A risky assumption, perhaps, but honestly, hadn't she already heard enough macabre details from him, today and during the past few months, to warrant her at least _some_ sort of immunity against further shock?

"Thank you," he chuckled in reply. "A couple of days ago, you see, our dear Brahne decided that I had outlived my usefulness as her advisor. Her notice came in the form of an Eidolon she sent to attack me."

"The queen can… could command one of the Eidolons? Since when did she possess such a force?" Hilda breathed, breaking the silence despite herself. She shook her head a moment later, trying to imagine just _how_ on Gaia had this fragile-looking man managed to survive an encounter with one of these infamous beasts. Not a long time ago she had seen him defeat an Antlion in less than half a minute, yet an Eidolon was surely a very _different_ sort of opponent…

"Thanks to my help, she could control a few of them, yes," confirmed Kuja. "Or so she thought." A bemused smirk crossed his face as he continued, "I dispelled her illusions of power rather quickly. Bahamut, the Eidolon she had tried to use, turned against her and ended up annihilating the majority of her fleet with his fiery breath. As you can see, then, I was acting mostly in my self-defense, though I'm sure it doesn't make any difference to either of us, let alone to the poor, deceased fool."

"How dare you talk about the queen like that?" Hilda spoke reflexively, still struggling to digest the things she had just heard. Her resentment only made Kuja shrug.

"I'll talk about her as I please." He paused, and then laughed; it was a startling, cruel sound that caused the older woman to shudder. "Some queen she was, indeed! So wrapped up in her self-indulgence that she lost all sense of rationality!" He lowered his hand from his mouth, still smiling in the same—half-malicious, half-amused—manner. "She was convinced she had been using me till the very end. Why, I almost regret not being by her side when she gave her final breath, just to see her expression the moment she realized her mistake."

"Your cruelty is simply disgusting," Hilda spat.

"Ah, but what would you have me do, my lady?" the murderer asked innocently. "Stand with my arms folded and allow Bahamut to blow me into oblivion? Remember, I was the one who helped Brahne satisfy her ambitions. I made her conquest possible in the first place—and that was how she repaid me? By siccing one of her new pets on me, when she thought me completely defenseless, too?" He smiled coldly. "As it turned out, she betrayed me first, regardless of what the charming General Beatrix had predicted."

Hilda clenched her teeth in exasperation, so hard that it actually hurt. "You act so amused by this, yet expect me to believe in your sincerity?" she hissed. "Do not presume that you can fool me with your smooth words alone, _Kuja_. You are not telling me the whole truth, are you? You had somehow manipulated the queen into her mad world-conquest, and then discarded her when _she_ had outlived her usefulness?"

"It's you who is presuming too much, Lady Hilda," the young man said with a fake sigh. "In my lifetime, I had indeed manipulated many people into all sort of situations, but that foolish creature didn't quite count among them. She wanted that war for herself, I'm afraid. In the end, her primitive instincts won against her common sense." He paused and shook his head then; shameless mockery fading from his blue eyes, replaced by something close to seriousness. "Brahne brought that sad end upon herself, yes… But since we're so wonderfully honest with each other today, I'll have you know that I would've probably killed her anyway. She was but a horrible actress in my play."

So he had admitted it, at last—something that Hilda had suspected all along, though it wasn't as if having her earlier guess confirmed made her feel any better now. Kuja really viewed the events on Gaia—the events he had helped shape and set into motion—as an entertaining theatre show. The people he met were just more or less skilled actors, or worse still, his marionettes. From his perspective, death must have been nothing but a dramatic way to exit the stage. His lack of empathy was simply overwhelming. Did he regard human emotions in the same manner he regarded their owners? Did he think people's grief, happiness, love, and hatred to be pretended?

A long silence fell after the sorcerer's final statement. Hilda stood with her shoulders slumped and a downcast expression, practically at a loss for words. A moralizing speech or an angry outburst on her part wouldn't do, she knew. There was no sense in reasoning with a madman, a person who had no conscience whatsoever, no point in trying to make him see something he couldn't—or refused to—comprehend.

"This world is not a play written for your pleasure," she said at last, in a quiet voice, raising her gaze to meet his face. The corners of the sorcerer's mouth curled upwards.

"Oh? Isn't it?"

"No." Hilda's tone grew more forceful. "Whatever happens, happens for real. People _suffer_ and _die_ for real. You just don't understand it, do you?" It was a rhetorical question, of course, but the reply came almost at once.

"I understand it well enough, I think." The charming smile Kuja was wearing didn't quite reach his blue eyes. "The problem is, most people make a total farce out of their lives, anyway. I chose to treat seriously only those who deserve it. It's not my fault only a few meet such criteria."

"Forget it," Hilda said after another pause, much longer than the previous one. "A _farce_ is what I would call our current conversation. I must be a fool myself, trying to lecture you on morals." She paused. "Just tell me about the aftermath of Lady Brahne's death. Does the war still rage on the Mist Continent?"

"The Alexandrian forces have permanently withdrawn from Lindblum, Cleyra and Burmecia," the man answered in a calm voice. "Your husband has his hands busy rebuilding your country and reorganizing the military." He hesitated. "Hands? Or should I call them pincers?"

"Who rules Alexandria now? _You_?" Hilda shot back in an equally sarcastic manner, letting the remark about Cid's condition slide. At least she had learnt that her darling husband was still alive and in power, capable of taking care of various matters at home.

"No, not me," Kuja laughed, perhaps even sincerely this time, though most of his next words carried the usual, cutting edge. "Princess Garnet has survived the turmoil of war, and she's to be crowned queen towards the end of the month. Too bad I'm not invited to the ceremony. My, my, it would seem that helping the previous queen part with this plane of existence has, ah… thrown me into disgrace."

Again, Hilda chose to disregard the cynical comment. She was relieved to hear other good news, at last. The princess was safe and well, a true blessing in itself. The war must have ruined the diplomatic relations between all countries, and caused terrible destruction to people and property, yet it was finally over now. If the young Garnet became the new ruler of Alexandria, she would surely manage to work out a reasonable compromise with Cid. Hilda trusted the girl to bury all of her mother's sick ambitions and concentrate on maintaining the peace, instead.

"I am glad that the princess is safe," she said, knowing well that Kuja wouldn't care about the girl, let alone about her own opinion. To her surprise, though, the man's initial reply sounded close to a cheerful agreement.

"Yes, the little canary proved to be tougher than I expected. I admit it would've been a pity to see her perish along with Brahne." He smirked. "She can now breathe a well-deserved sigh of relief and try to get used to the weight of the crown upon her head. Alexandria will remain at peace for a while longer."

Hilda tensed in alarm, an ugly suspicion sinking its claws into her mind. "What do you mean, a _while_ longer?"

"Surely you don't expect the peace to last forever?" Kuja didn't even bother to hide his amusement. "People of Gaia are such warlike creatures; always stimulated by the Mist, ready to settle their conflicts in the most ruthless manner…"

"What are you talking about?" She shook her head, ignoring the cryptic remark about the Mist for the time being. "No one in their right mind would think to reignite the conflict right now!"

"Perhaps not," he admitted calmly. "Perhaps these puny creatures have their limits, after all, and will need yet another spur to send them running in the correct direction."

Hilda all but staggered as the true meaning behind the man's words finally hit her. She stared at him in wide-eyed horror, and yet he met her gaze without flinching. It would be impossible to find any traces of remorse, let alone hesitation, etched in his porcelain features.

"You cannot possibly intend to start a new war!" she exclaimed, taking a step forward, even though her heart crumpled at the same time. He probably intended to do just _that_—and she was completely powerless to stop him, unable to persuade him to abandon his insane plans. If he had succeeded in wreaking so much havoc in the past few months, then she could only guess what he will be capable of doing right now. She raised a hand to her trembling lips; the mere thought of it was making her ill. "Are you not satisfied with all the destruction you have caused for your planet's sake?"

"The amount of the necessary destruction is not for me to decide," he replied with a small shrug, as some unspecified emotion flickered in his eyes. It no longer looked like amusement to her—but then again, where did this anger come from? Hadn't he seemed perfectly happy about his progress on Gaia only a moment ago?

"Who makes this sort of decisions, then?" she demanded, seething with her own fury, while he remained outwardly composed. "The other Terrans, the people you do not even want to associate with, at least according to my earlier impression?" She could see him tense further, and yet the stiff mask he wore didn't slide off his face.

"Not quite… but in a way, yes."

"Ah, but what does it matter? Nothing gives you—_them_, whoever they are—the right to interfere with our lives, with–"

"Stop," the young man interrupted at once, before Hilda could start to babble. They stared at each other for a few seconds, and then he said, "I believe we've already discussed this. The only legitimization one needs is strength. If you have enough power within your grasp, the others will crawl at your feet, and it applies to both whole nations as well as single men." He clenched his teeth. "The weak don't deserve any mercy, nor the privilege to live."

"This—this isn't right!"

"No." She was shocked to have him instantly agree with her. "No, more often than not, it isn't. But this is the truth, and there's no running away from it. You either dictate the rules, or have them dictated for you. There is no other way."

Hilda had a strange feeling that Kuja wasn't even talking about the war anymore, but it hardly mattered to her at the moment. The war was the most important one of_ her_ concerns, after all; not the hidden meaning behind this man's words.

"So you are telling me that the bloodshed must continue?" she said, still struggling to regulate her breathing. "Simply because the world _works_ that way?"

"You're right, and yes, it must continue. Not only for Terra's sake."

Contrary to Hilda's expectations, the sorcerer didn't smile, and so she smiled for him, her lips stretching slowly into a tight, humorless grimace. "Yours, too?" she said… and suddenly felt as if their roles had somehow become reversed. She was the porcelain doll with a fake, crooked smile now, whereas he seemed so startlingly real—human—like she had never seen him before.

"Yes, Lady Hilda. Mine, too. Mine, in the first place." There was no uncertainty in his voice. "You accuse me of treating the world as a play, and I suppose you're partially right. I have fun doing most things I choose to do these days… because why shouldn't I? Watching fools die is as good entertainment as any. Make no mistake, though." She remained silent as he first closed, and then reopened his eyes. "Not all of this is a game to me. I can be deadly serious when it comes to serious matters."

* * *

**End of Chapter Twelve**

* * *

Author's Notes: Many thanks to all of you who have reached the end of this chapter and are still looking forward to reading more! I'll try to update as soon as possible, not in another year or so. I want to complete this story very badly (but not before it reaches the length of at least 100,000 words :)), especially now, when I have this startlingly clear view of what I'd like to write next.

"Hilda had a strange feeling that Kuja wasn't even talking about the war anymore" – and rightly so, because the man's of course reflecting upon his relationship with Garland when he says these things. He really believes in 'the strong feed on the weak' philosophy; he voices that explicitly in the game, though I no longer remember the exact words he uses.

The thirteenth part is going to focus on some self-aware Black Mages. Hilda will finally learn that the creepy servants are more than just mindless puppets, and Kuja will be less than pleased with their actions. I need to erase the memory of his so-called heroic deed from the previous chapter with some particularly malicious, cruel behavior. It'd be best not to forget he's still a villain… albeit an extremely alluring one. :)

Okay, I'm off to do some writing, so keep your thumbs crossed from me. :)


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